


You and Whose Army

by Fancy Lads Snacks (Filthy_Bunny)



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Gossip, John Seed's gratuitous hand gestures, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rumours, Sexual Frustration, Slow Burn, background John/Deputy, but the Seeds are not, enemies to lovers I guess, good!Seeds, most of the canon backstory is still the same, non-cult AU, unwelcome crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-05-30 15:16:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15099464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthy_Bunny/pseuds/Fancy%20Lads%20Snacks
Summary: New people will always attract attention in a close-knit community like Hope County. When those new people are a trio of rich, handsome brothers and a flock of devoted followers, the rumour mill goes into overdrive. The Hope County Sheriff isn't taking the gossip seriously, but his three young deputies know there's something fishy going on with those Seed boys, and they're damn well going to find out what it is.ORwhat I came up with after asking myself, "What if the Seed brothers were good but everyone in Hope County is really fucking paranoid"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have not abandoned my Fallout fics, but Far Cry 5 has taken temporary ownership of my soul. 
> 
> Nothing E rated in this chapter, but there will eventually be smut.

Pratt hasn’t been to the St Francis Veteran Centre in years, not since he was a rookie and got called out to deal with a vagrancy complaint. The place had been long abandoned back then, the courtyard choked with weeds and faded trash. Inside it had stunk to high heaven. Bird and animal shit and the remains of campfires caked the floors.

Today as he walks up the gravel road to the gates, it’s like stepping back into another era when the hospital was open and thriving. The front court is visible, for one thing. No ivy or knotweed strangling the iron gate, and the paving beyond is chipped but clean.

The new owner is one Jacob Seed. Pratt’s never officially met the man, though he’s seen him around now and again. Seed and his family—two brothers, plus an unknown number of hangers-on—rolled into Hope County a few months back after buying up a suspicious amount of property. The Sheriff’s Department started getting calls soon after. Just the odd one at first, but the longer the Seeds take root on this land, the more the locals are reacting against their presence.

Most of the attention is on Joseph Seed, the long-haired preacher who bought up half the island on Silver Lake and is setting up some kind of hippy commune there. Rumour has it he’s building a chapel, but in the meantime he holds open services a couple times a week in a big white tent on his land. Folks started going along out of curiosity at first, looking to sniff around what this weirdo and his barefoot harem were up to. Probably hoping there’d be naked dancing around maypoles or some such to tide them over in gossip until winter. But whatever Joseph has to say must be connecting with people because almost as many locals love him as hate him now. Of course, that’s only made family members more concerned. There’s already accusations of brainwashing and devil-worship flying around.

While the Sheriff’s Department isn’t taking such nonsense seriously, there have been enough complaints to the station by now that Earl Whitehorse finally agreed to address the issue. It’s been a slow couple of days at the department, so Earl has headed to Joseph's camp to cast an eye over things. His deputies are meanwhile tasked with visiting other Seed family properties around the county. Hudson to the farmstead by the Henbane; Ash to John Seed's ranch.

Staci isn’t over the moon at being sent to St Francis’, but Jacob Seed’s property is at the farthest reach of the county and he’s the only one who can pilot the chopper. He casts a glance back at where he set it down, on the grass at the point of the little lake out front of the building, then sighs and pushes through the gates.

The courtyard seems deserted. There’s a new-looking Jeep with Montana plates parked near the gate, and a couple of mud-spattered ATVs further back, but no one attending them. Over in one corner is a stack of rusting bed frames and other trash, leftovers from the hospital’s former life. Pratt strolls past a dried-up fountain towards the front doors. The weather's warming up, and the prickle down his spine and under his arms makes him wish he’d left his jacket in the chopper.

Pratt lifts the brass knocker on the lobby door. His four sharp raps cut like gunfire through the hush of the valley. He turns from the door to wait and idly examines the plastic-wrapped pallets standing by the entrance. Masonry paint, sacks of cement, plasterboard sheets. Most likely ordered from out of county judging by the volume. Pratt raises an eyebrow at the huge spools of razor wire.

A couple of minutes pass, and he knocks again.

“Hello?” he calls out, but only his own voice echoes back off the high walls around the Centre.

He considers trying the door and hollering inside, but the locals he’s talked to who had run-ins with Jacob Seed have described him as anything but friendly, so he decides against it. He wanders along the ground floor instead, hoping to catch a glimpse inside. It's useless; the windows on this level are guarded by iron bars on the outside and dark blinds drawn within. It seems a waste of time and fuel to fly out here for nothing, so he turns right when he reaches the corner to make a clockwise loop around the building. Along the western wall is a row of large boxes, each one almost as tall as he is, covered over with green tarps. Staci lifts a corner up to peek underneath. It’s not a box at all, but a metal cage. The kind you might keep a vicious animal or, say, a prisoner of war in. There must be six of them lined up.

“Great. Not disturbing at all,” he mutters to himself.

There’s more junk heaped up ready for a bonfire in back. Open dumpsters stuffed with dead weeds and other garbage. Not a living soul to be seen.

On the back wall of the hospital Pratt finds a window left uncovered. It’s barred like the others, but when he cups his hands around his eyes and leans in, he can make out the gloomy interior.

The room within is mostly empty, just a few boxes near the door and a folding table with paint trays and rollers. If Staci smushes his face to the bars and peers all the way to his left, he can see through an open doorway into another room, and in there…

“Oh, shit.”

The section of wall he can see is lined with racks, and on those racks are guns. Lots of guns. Identical assault rifles occupy one full rack. The one beside it is harder to make out but he thinks he sees shotguns and a large hunting bow. In a glass-fronted cabinet under the racks he can make out the dark shapes of pistols against a red backing cloth.

He shifts from foot to foot, wondering whether he should take out his phone and try to get pictures. But he’s not supposed to be here, at least not sneaking round the back of the property like a burglar, and he’s wary of taking away any evidence he might regret later.

Suddenly all he wants is to get back to Fall’s End. He heads back the way he came and crosses the courtyard at a brisk pace. He glances back only once he’s halfway along the road. The hospital’s buttery yellow walls are catching the late afternoon sun, and Staci can’t help but marvel at what a beautiful spot this is, nestled in its own lush, wooded valley with the vast wall of Monument Mountain curving around it like protective arms, and the lake reflecting the clouds. It’s a damn shame it’s been bought up by a family of crazies.

Staci jogs up the grassy rise to the helicopter and around to the side. As he rounds the tail end he stops short, boots skidding on the damp grass.

Jacob Seed is sitting in the cockpit.

One foot on the landing skid and the other in the opening, his ass parked on the pilot’s seat as though he belongs there. A sleek black rifle leans against the body of the chopper within easy reach. He’s holding a rosy red apple in one hand, turning it slowly as he strips the peel into a long spiral with a pocket knife. In a holster at his thigh is a much larger hunting knife, black and menacing against the faded blue of his jeans.

“Evening, Deputy,” he says at last, not looking up from his apple.

Staci shuts his mouth and swallows painfully, throat suddenly parched. He tries to calm himself, squeezing his already sweating hands into fists at his sides. It’s fine. Just because Seed chanced upon the helicopter doesn’t mean he saw anything. Staci glances at the expensive scope on the rifle and gets the uneasy feeling that perhaps he’s seen _everything_.

“Mr Seed,” Staci replies. It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth; makes him feel like a kid addressing a teacher. But he doesn’t know the man well enough to call him _Jacob_. Maybe he should have just called him _Seed_ ; he’ll remember that for next time. At least he didn’t call him _Sir_.

He's forgotten all the questions he was meaning to ask. All he can think of right now is those racks of guns. He takes a few steps closer to the chopper, but Jacob doesn’t move.

“Do you mind?”

“Mind what, exactly?” Seed sounds bored as he finishes peeling the apple and lets the coil of red skin drop to the grass. He looks up at Staci then, and his eyes are a clear, vivid blue.

Pratt has never seen him up close before, and it’s hard not to stare at his scars. The ones on his face are most distracting simply due to their placement. His right cheek is marked worse than the left, pocked and mottled by what Staci assumes is a severe burn. The meanest scars are on his arms, angry red splotches against faded pink-brown, as though already damaged skin has been injured again recently. As though his first trial by fire hadn’t taught him enough of a lesson. The thought makes Staci even more anxious.

He forces his eyes back to meet Seed’s. “This chopper is property of the Hope County Sheriff Department,” he tells him.

Jacob’s eyebrows raise in feigned surprise. “That so,” he replies. He gestures with the pocket knife at the land around them. “Well, since all of this is _my_ property, I think that means you and your chopper aren’t supposed to be on it without an invitation.” He fixes Staci with that bright blue glare. “And I don’t recall inviting you, Deputy.”

Staci clears his throat. He’s being challenged, but he’ll be damned if he makes himself look weak by apologising.

“We’ve had a couple of reports of strange activity on your family’s properties,” he says, tucking his thumbs into his belt loops. Everything he does feels awkward and transparent. It’s maddening, and more than a little embarrassing, but he doesn’t want to draw more attention by moving his hands again. He presses on. “I just came out to have a word, but you were nowhere to be seen.”

“You’ve found me now.”

Clearly the opposite is true.

Staci nods anyway. “Mind me asking what sort of operation you’re running out here?”

Seed completely ignores the question and takes a bite of apple instead, forcing Pratt to wait for his reply while he chews. He squints against the treeline thoughtfully and swallows.

“What exactly constitutes ‘strange activity’, Deputy?”

Pratt decides to stick to the tamer accusations. “A lot of trucks bringing stuff in from out of county. Construction noise around the clock. Blocking off footpaths.” He shrugs. “All sorts of little things, but add it all up and it’s out of the ordinary for a quiet community like this.”

“Wasn’t aware _out of the ordinary_ was the same as _illegal_.”

“It’s not. But it’s putting folks on edge. Maybe if they had an idea what was going on, it would set their minds at ease.”

Seed shakes his head, still looking into the distance. “Doesn’t matter where you go,” he sighs. “People can’t mind their own damn business.”

“Come on now, Mr Seed,” Staci says. “If everything’s above board, what’s there to hide? What are you doing out here?”

“Why don’t you tell me,” Jacob says. “You got a nice long look around. What’d you find out?”

Shit. Of _course_ he saw him. Pratt pauses, considering whether or not to admit what he saw.

“You have a lot of guns,” he replies. “Sidearms and assault rifles mostly, from what I could tell. Not your everyday hunting fare.”

“Oh, I have hunting rifles too, Deputy.”

Staci can tell Seed is loving every second of his discomfort. He isn’t even trying to make himself look innocent. All that tells Staci is that he’s arrogant. Seed’s brother may be a fancy lawyer, but that doesn’t make him or anyone in his weirdo family untouchable.

“You care to tell me why you need that kind of firepower?”

Seed takes another big bite of his apple. “Security,” he says around his mouthful.

Pratt shifts his weight to the other foot. “Security for what?”

“For my family’s property,” he replies. “My brother Joseph is very trusting, very patient. I’m not. I told him there were gonna be people in this county who wouldn’t want to see him succeed. You just proved me right.”

“Succeed at _what_?” Staci blurts out.

Seed is out of the cockpit and on his feet in one swift motion. For a big man, he sure moves fast. Pratt has to steel himself to stay put rather than backing up a couple of steps the way he wants to. The way Seed is expecting him to. Of course, he _has_ to be taller than Staci, only by a couple inches, but he makes sure to flaunt it as he moves closer.

“Are we done here, Deputy...” He peers down at the name stitched above Staci’s breast pocket. “... _Pratt?_ ” The hard consonants grit out from between his teeth, cold and clear as ice chips.

They lock eyes for a few seconds. Seed knows exactly how intimidating he is with his bulk and his scars and those intense eyes, bright blue like a gas flame. Staci doesn’t have any of his presence, but he stares back anyway, keen to show the other man he’s no cowering fool.

Eventually he nods his head once, holding the eye contact.

“We’re done.”

Seed steps back to retrieve his rifle. “I trust that I won’t find you trespassing on my property again.”

“As long as you don’t cause any trouble, I’ll have no reason to come back.” Pratt's attempt at a warning tone is laughable and they both know it, but all Seed does as he meets his eye again is tilt one corner of his mouth up ever so slightly.

“I’ll be sure to remember it.” Without taking his eyes off Staci, he says, “Here, Judge.”

Pratt frowns in confusion, mouth opening to say _What?_ when a blur of grey and white fur flashes past him.

“Jesus Christ,” he stammers instead.

The biggest fucking dog he’s ever seen bounds over to Jacob Seed’s side and sits, sniffing his hand before turning big yellow eyes on Staci. A long pink tongue like a slice of bacon lolls from its mouth. How long was that thing watching them? There are wolves in these mountains, and the monster sitting next to Jacob Seed is either one of them or a close goddamn relative. Heart hammering, Pratt makes a mental note to look up what the law has to say about keeping wolves as pets.

Seed leans his rifle across his shoulders and saunters off with the giant hound at his side. Staci is furious. He climbs into the helicopter, slamming the cockpit door too hard behind him, and quickly checks over the control panel in case Seed decided to fuck with anything. Everything seems fine. He’s relieved, but also disappointed he doesn’t have anything concrete to pin on him. Jacob Seed is bad fucking news, and Pratt swears to himself there and then that he’s going to be the one to prove it.

He fumbles his headset on and fires up the chopper, scowling at the controls until he’s put air between him and the ground. As he tilts the craft in the direction of home, he glances down and notices Jacob still standing at the tree line watching him. Seed raises his right hand to his head in a mocking salute, and while he’s too far away to be sure, Staci just _knows_ the bastard is grinning.

-

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an intro to my Three Musketeers, with added ~intrigue~

Earl plays the whole thing down.

“So he has a stockpile of guns. How’s that different to any of the hundred other doomsday preppers around here?”

Pratt isn’t surprised by his attitude. Whitehorse is in his mid-fifties but he looks older thanks to heart trouble of both the literal (myocardial infarction) and figurative (divorce) variety in recent years. He’s mostly aiming to keep folks happy and his blood pressure low as he coasts towards retirement. Knowing that doesn’t keep Pratt from feeling irritated.

“We’re talking eight or ten AR-Cs here, Earl,” he says. “And that’s just for starters. I never knew a hunter or hobbyist who had multiples of the exact same damn rifle. You ask me, he’s looking to arm a small militia.”

Earl just watches him through his thick glasses with the same fatherly patience.

“Did you see any members of this hypothetical militia?”

“No, but—”

“Anyone else there at all?”

Staci scowls. “No, the place was deserted,” he grumbles. “But Jacob was talking like he needed to protect his brother’s camp. Something about… people not wanting Joseph to succeed. What if they’re up to something big, and they’re expecting resistance?”

The Sheriff just sighs, fingers interlocked over his belly as he leans back in his chair.

“And what do you propose we do about this, Pratt?”

“I don’t know, just…” Staci frowns and sinks deeper into his own seat. Jacob Seed could push a shopping cart full of AK-47s down the street and there wouldn’t be a damn thing they could do about it unless and until he crossed the very generous boundaries laid out by Montana law. “Keep an eye on ’em, I guess. I just wanted you to know what’s going on, that’s all. We need to stay on high alert with these guys.”

“Well then, it’s lucky that our job is to stay alert and keep an eye on people.” Earl gets to his feet, hitches up his pants by the belt, and reaches for his empty coffee cup. “But it’s also to serve our community. The Seeds are part of that community now, like it or not. Stay off Jacob’s property. Last thing I need is you landing yourself in trouble trying to trip him up.”

“So you do agree he’s trouble?”

Earl sighs. “I meant _legal_ trouble, Pratt. Be smart.”

Staci nods and gets up, still pouting a little. “Okay, boss.”

-

“I’m telling you, Jacob Seed is up to something,” Pratt says over the rim of his beer glass later that evening. “And I may not know what it is yet, but I know I don’t like it.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Joey Hudson replies.

Trevor Ash just nods along. The three of them are at their usual table in the Spread Eagle, still in uniform after their shift, although Staci untucked his shirt at the first opportunity. He’s just finished filling his fellow deputies in on what went down at the Veteran Centre. It’s gratifying to have an audience that doesn’t dismiss him.

“Okay, my turn,” Hudson announces.

She sets her elbows on the table and leans in to tell her tale. Whitehorse sent her over to the Henbane River earlier that day to pay a visit to Joseph Seed’s farmland, and her first stop was Jessop’s Conservatory.

“I wanted to check that place out most of all, because it seemed kinda suspect the Seeds had taken it over. I had a feeling the Jessops moved away a while back. So I asked Nancy, ’cos she knows everyone’s business, right? Sure enough, they moved to Washington state two years ago. And she didn’t remember the farm being listed for sale, now or ever. So I figured it must have changed hands privately. But. Listen to this.”

The other two can’t help but huddle in closer too, intrigued and a little excited. It’s not that they’re enjoying this, of course. They don’t _want_ the Seeds causing trouble in their county. But being the ones chasing the truth makes them feel important.

“I got talking to this hippy guy working there. Asked him about the Jessops, how come they decided to sell up. He said he didn’t know anything about the owners, but he did know that Seed didn’t buy it. Said it was _gifted_ to him. Nancy was right, it never _was_ for sale.”

“Gifted?” Ash frowns. “Like, inherited?”

“No, I asked him that. And he just tells me that no, it was a _generous offering_ to Joseph and Eden’s Gate.”

Staci makes a face at the word ‘offering’. It sounds sinister, like something you’d place on an altar to ask for protection from the gods.

“Why would the Jessops give him their farm when they live hundreds of miles away?,” he asks.

“Exactly! Maybe because they didn’t. Nancy told me they left managers running the place, including their daughter. My guess is they’re the ones who passed it on to Joseph’s group.”

“Which would be illegal,” Ash says, a smile playing at his lips.

“Very. Either the cult decided they could strong-arm people off the property, or—and this is my hunch, since no one’s come to the Sheriff about it—the managers have joined Eden’s Gate and let them have free rein.”

“Option number three, Joseph murdered them all and hid the bodies,” Pratt suggests, only half joking. Something has been nagging him about the Jessops’ name, and it suddenly clicks. “Wait a minute. Was the daughter called Rachel?”

Hudson shrugs. “Why?”

“There was a Rachel Jessop who went to school with my kid sister, Bobbi. That’d make her... twenty-three, twenty-four now?” He looks at Ash. “You don’t remember her?”

“Nah. I went to James County, not Emery.”

“Mm. I didn’t know her personally, but there was some scandal about her at school. I don’t remember what, it was after I graduated. Bobbi would know.”

“Huh. Well, according to this dude at the farm, someone other woman is in charge of the place now. She wasn’t there today, so I didn’t get to meet her. But guess what her name is.”

Pratt sighs. “Obviously we’re not going to guess.”

“Faith Seed,” Joey replies, carefully enunciating each word to see their reaction.

“No way,” Ash says. “What relation?”

“That’s the really fucked up part. This guy wasn’t even sure. He said he thought she was Joseph’s sister, but then again she might be his daughter. To be honest, from the look of him he’s so spaced out on their free love bullshit he wouldn’t recognise his _own_ sister. But twenty bucks says Joseph Seed has a whole goddamn harem and this Faith is one of his _wives_.” She lifts her hands to make scare quotes around the last word. “I already heard from Janine at the Hollyhock that she saw Joseph with some pregnant lady. All these white-boy messiah, creepy cult dudes are like that. They just wanna be worshipped and fuck a bunch of women. Populate the world with their spawn.”

Staci and Ash don’t comment, but for all they know Hudson is right. She’s been reading up on cult leaders since the C-word started being whispered around in relation to the Seeds.

“Anything else weird about the place?” Staci asks her.

“Nothing I could see, least not on the surface. Other than the fact it’s a bunch of hipsters growing organic kale and all that vegan soy bullshit. Stuff they grow to feed the commune.”

They take a quick break to refill their drinks. It’s Ash’s round so Pratt heads to the bathroom, and when he gets back to the table he’s touched to see that Ash got him a bottle of his favourite Whistling Beaver IPA. It’s more expensive than the watery Leased he was drinking earlier, but pay day is still a way off and Staci’s watching his wallet. He clinks bottles with Ash, nodding his appreciation.

Ash is the department’s newest recruit. He only joined the department last fall after they lost Danny Youngblood. Danny was dearly loved by the department and locals alike, and his weren’t easy shoes to fill. But Trev Ash has settled in as well as anyone could. At twenty-five he’s the youngest of the three deputies, only by a year, but Pratt has been in the job for three years and change so he has a bigger head start. Ash is a little naive, but he makes up for it in hard work and a genuine eagerness to learn. That made it easy for Pratt and Hudson to bring him under their collective wing.

“So come on,” Joey Hudson urges Ash. “What happened at the ranch?”

Ash got the glamorous job: calling on John Seed.

“I didn’t get anything as juicy as you guys,” he tells them, looking a little sheepish. “To be honest… I know it sounds lame, but he was really friendly. Nice. _Too_ nice, for a filthy rich lawyer.”

“Mm hmm.” Hudson is unimpressed. “You know who else seemed nice? Charles Manson.”

Pratt smirks against the neck of his bottle. “Did he invite you in?”

“Yeah. And I’m telling you, his place is amazing. It’s huge.”

He launches into a starry-eyed description of John Seed’s home, his land, even his cars and his airplane, all of which he was quite happy to put on display for Deputy Ash. Staci listens raptly. He’s seen John tearing around in his convertible with the hood down whenever it’s dry enough, and you only need to glance at his clothes or sunglasses to know he’s seriously wealthy. Staci would have jumped at the chance to snoop around his ranch, too.

Hudson is less patient. “So did you actually ask him anything, or just enjoy the tour?”

“Yeah, I mean, he talked a lot too. Told me a bit about the family. There were some photos of them in the house, just the three brothers. He never mentioned a sister. He did say Joseph was married, though.”

“To how many people?” Pratt jokes.

“Just the one,” Ash grins. “He definitely said ‘wife’, singular.”

“Could be lying,” Joey says. “He is a lawyer.”

“Oh, sure. I did get the feeling he could probably convince you of anything. He’s super smart. You can tell as soon as he speaks. Just from the way he looks at you, you know? Like he’s a few steps ahead.”

Pratt sighs. “Well our dumb asses are screwed, then.” That earns him a kicked shin from Joey.

Ash tells them what he learned about John’s life back in Atlanta, Georgia, where the Seeds lived before moving to the northwest. It’s a more fleshed-out version of the bare skeleton of story they already knew. John studied law at Cornell and became an associate at a prestigious law firm. He and his brothers had been separated for a number of years due to circumstances he was careful to gloss over with Ash, but whatever had split them up, Joseph found John again as an adult. The reunion must have had a significant impact on John. He’d started planning their relocation soon after, searching the States and even beyond for a place where the family could settle together.

“He’s the one with all the money,” Ash tells them. “Always was. He didn’t say much about his brothers’ circumstances, but I got the feeling they didn’t have much. John made serious bank as a lawyer. Still does, I mean, because he travels back and forth a lot for business. He’s in Atlanta most weeks. Sometimes LA. And here at weekends.”

Hudson looks even more suspicious than usual. “He earn enough to buy a luxury ranch, planes, cars, _and_ a shitload of property for his brothers without batting an eye?”

“I guess so. Why, you think he swindled them?”

“I think he either got the deal of the fucking century, or he has money from other sources.”

“He did say something about having investments.”

“That could mean _anything_.”

“Law and investments,” Pratt mutters. “He isn’t in advertising too, is he? That’s, like, the holy trinity of douchebag professions.”

Hudson snorts. “Probably sold his soul to the devil.”

“That would explain how he got so rich. And hot.”

Ash clutches his beer and closes his eyes in regret. “So hot,” he replies.

Hudson makes a noise of disgust. “Don’t you dare go down that road,” she tells him.

“Man, I’ll try. But he was kinda flirty, too. Really flirty. He kept touching me while he was showing me around.” Bless him, he’s blushing.

“God damn it,” Pratt whines. “Why didn’t _I_ get John Seed duty?”

That earns him a glare from Hudson. “Don’t you start.”

“What? We’re allowed to look.”

“Yeah. Look, and listen. Nothing more. That family is trouble and we all know it. Okay, Ash?”

“Hey, it’s not like I _did_ anything.”

“You too,” she warns Staci.

He just scoffs. “Okay, Mom. Chance’d be a fine thing.”

He’s heard about John Seed’s flirtatiousness, but never been on the receiving end of it. Even if they do eventually get properly introduced, he doubts he’s distracting enough for someone like John Seed who can afford to select the finest of everything, including sexual partners. Trev Ash is a different matter. His fellow deputy may be a small-town hick like Pratt, but he’s gorgeous enough to make up for it. Broad and thickly muscled, with warm sepia-toned skin and a heart-melting smile. Luckily for Staci, the two of them knew each other just well enough before Ash got the job that they are friends and nothing more. Otherwise he’d have ended up with the mother of all unrequited crushes. Of course, being friends and colleagues doesn’t mean Staci can’t appreciate how the guy fills out a shirt and pants.

They sit in silence for a minute to sip drinks and mull over their new intel. It’s Friday and the bar is getting lively even though it’s still early. The arcade game boops and jangles by the door, drowned out every now and then by Gary Fairgrave’s bellowing laugh from behind the bar.

“We still need to get something on Joseph,” Pratt muses aloud. “I know Earl went out there today, but to be honest, unless he caught them in the middle of sacrificing virgins I doubt he’d bat an eye.”

“Yeah.” Joey looks as frustrated as Staci felt in Earl’s office earlier. “It’s like… If he just wills it all to be okay, it’ll be okay. But that just makes it easy for Joseph to make a fool of him.”

Ash eyes them both awkwardly. “Come on, guys. Earl’s a good Sheriff.”

“Sure he is,” Joey replies. “God, I love the guy like my own family. And I know he cares about the county, with all his heart. But this thing with the Seeds is different. It’s like he’s in denial that anything really big could ever happen around here. But I’ll bet the folks in Waco felt the same.”

Staci feels a chill in his stomach. It couldn’t get that bad. Could it? Joey glances around her before speaking again, although there’s no need. No one will hear her over the growing chatter.

“Look. I know this sounds bad, but… I didn’t tell him everything I told you. I mentioned the Jessops, said they hadn’t sold up, but I figured Nancy will have already yapped to him about that. I didn’t mention Faith Seed.” She pre-empts Ash’s question by holding up her hand. “I will, obviously, when we have something concrete. But while we’re still figuring this out… I’m worried if we say too much, he’ll just tell us to stop poking our noses in. Give us something else to do instead. And this is important, guys.”

Staci chews the inside of his mouth and picks at the label on his beer. He hates the thought of lying to Earl, but he knows she has a point.

“Okay,” he says. “We find anything out, we tell each other first. And when we have enough to nail them, we take it to Earl together.”

Hudson nods grimly. “Together.”

Ash sighs, and brings his bottle forward to clink against theirs.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s raining by the time Pratt drives home, a half-hearted effort compared to the downpours of recent weeks. This time of year is bittersweet. On the one hand, he’ll be glad to be done with another round of spring floods and the threat of landslides in the hills. The porch on his trailer has been leaking, and every time it more than drizzles he has to stretch out and unlock his door at arm’s length to avoid a collar full of rainwater.

On the other hand, his trailer copes no better with the summer heat, not to mention the dry weather brings its own dangers. However much floods suck, forest fires are worse. But the good side of summer is enough to kindle his excitement. Lake swimming is a highlight of his year. There’ll be sports events and barbecues and outdoor festivals across the county. Some of them will probably end in him arresting someone, but that’s par for the course.

As he flops onto his couch, crown of his head wet from the dripping porch, he wonders what this summer will hold now the Seeds are a part of the local landscape. Joseph’s followers no doubt love the sun, given their barefoot, flower-power, Woodstock-wannabe vibe. Pratt has never been to Georgia—never been further east than the Dakotas—but he knows it’s hot. It’s easy to picture Joseph there, waxing lyrical to his Deep South congregation, or John schmoozing in a flashy penthouse on the Atlanta skyline.

Jacob seems an odd fit either there or here. He certainly dresses like he belongs in the mountains and forests of Hope, and the rifle-toting Trust No One attitude is right at home with the doomsday prepper crowd. But Staci got the impression Jacob doesn’t want to fit in. _Doesn’t matter where you go,_ he’d said. Like he’s rootless and restless wherever he ends up. Maybe it’s a veteran thing. There’s little concrete information on the Seeds’ backgrounds, but Pratt is certain that Jacob is ex-military. Didn’t need to see the man’s name sewn onto his army jacket to recognise that.

Pratt frowns at the wall he’s been staring at. He doesn’t give a shit what’s going on in Jacob Seed’s head. He’s still resentful about earlier, and not even so much at what Seed said or did, but how poorly he dealt with it. Staci knows how to defend against physical aggression. He’s broken up enough bar fights and domestic disturbances that he isn’t scared of flying fists. He’s had men twice his size launch spittle-flecked insults into his face without flinching. God knows Pratt isn’t thick-skinned by nature, but he can pull on the armour when the job demands it.

Jacob didn’t even raise his voice, and yet he unnerved Staci in a way no one has for a long time.

Fuck this. If he’s got to to think about that damn family in his free time, it may as well be productive. He gets up and rummages in the pile of mail and other papers on his kitchen counter until he finds what he’s looking for: a map of Hope County. It’s only one of those tourist ones on cheap paper, with ads around the edge for local stores and restaurants and coupons for free entry to the FANG Centre, but it’s surprisingly detailed once he unfolds it on his living room floor. He crouches beside it with a Sharpie and a pad of Post-its he accidentally borrowed from work.

He draws the first ‘X’ over the veterans centre. Another on the island, right where Joseph’s camp is set up. John’s ranch. The farm run by the mysterious Faith. Then he sticks a Post-it beside each site with a couple of words summing up what he knows about it. He scowls again as he slaps the note with ‘guns’ and ‘cages’ scribbled on it next to Jacob’s base. The map goes up above his couch. It’s crooked and obscures most of the _Akira_ poster on the wall, but he can fix that tomorrow.

He gives the map one last glance before firing up a game and putting the Seeds out of his mind for another night.

-

He and Hudson add some more notes to their unofficial file on the Seed family over the next few days.

The first source is Pratt’s sister, Bobbi. She and their youngest sister Jess are in college in Helena and share an apartment there. During their weekend phone call, Staci asks Bobbi what she remembers about Rachel Jessop.

Bobbi recalls that Rachel was quiet but popular in school. Being cute and skinny had no doubt helped. Things only changed at the start of their senior year when Rachel returned after summer break different.

“She was quieter than usual, and skinnier, but she wore big sweaters and men’s shirts to hide it. We all thought she probably had an eating disorder. We... weren’t very sympathetic. You know how awful high-schoolers can be.”

“I do indeed.”

“No one really paid it much attention until the whole Homecoming fiasco.”

“What Homecoming fiasco?”

Bobbi tuts loudly. “God, Staci. She turned up to the dance high as a fucking kite. She was wearing this strapless dress and her arms were all fucked up, track marks and bruises and shit. I didn’t talk to her but people said she was talking crazy. They stopped the dance and called the Sheriff out, and her parents had to come back from a trip to get her. It was messed up.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Bobbi sighs. “God, I feel kind of terrible now. That poor kid must have been so screwed up. At the time all I cared about was that I was head of the dance committee and she’d ruined my entire night. I can’t believe you don’t remember! I was _devastated_.”

“You were a teenager, you were always devastated.”

“Asshole,” Bobbi grumbles. “You’re totally right, though.”

“So what happened to her?”

“I don’t know, she never came back to school. No one saw her around again so we all figured she’d been sent to rehab. Her parents were rich enough to send her someplace fancy and far away. I went to a sleepover at her house once, before all the drug stuff, and it was a fucking _mansion_.”

“Hmm.” Staci glances at his map and the yellow note stuck beside the Jessops’ former home. “Would you have said she was an easy person to manipulate?”

“I don’t know. I guess so. She always seemed a little fragile.”

There’s more news on Monday. Staci learns from Mary May Fairgrave (who heard it from Pastor Jeffries, who heard it from a parishioner who works at the visitors centre in the Mastodon geothermal park) that the old convent on the eastern slopes of Angel’s Peak has been purchased by none other than John Seed. No one knows exactly when, but tall fences went up around it in the last week or so and farmers in the nearby fields have seen John’s convertible at the site.

“What the fuck do they want with a convent?” Hudson demands when he fills her in on Tuesday morning. “They’re already building a church on the island.”

“I don’t know,” Staci replies. “It’s a nice piece of real estate. Maybe they’re getting greedy.”

“I bet it’s for the cult. It has the chapel and living quarters, and it’s secluded.”

“Yeah.” Staci tips a packet of sugar into his coffee and stirs it. “Do you remember when it closed?”

“About two years ago, I think. By that point there were only four or five nuns left and wasn’t worth keeping open. I guess the convent lifestyle doesn’t exactly have the same appeal these days.”

Pratt hums agreement and tosses his spoon into the sink. “Hey, did you ever go to the bible camp there?”

Hudson laughs. “Of course! My folks idolised those nuns so I got packed off every fucking year. The only reason I never fought them on it was because I got to make out with this cute guy from James County who was there every year. Josh Claggett.” She grins at the memory. “You?”

“Only once,” he recalls. “For literally one day, the summer after my parents split. My mom had always wanted us to go but my dad refused because he hated the church. Plus he used to take me and my sisters to the pow wows up north every year. Anyway, after the divorce my mom was ready to go, y’know, _Full Catholic_ with us. Sent me and Bobbi to bible camp. My dad went apeshit when he found out. He threatened to drive down from Calgary and pull us out himself if she didn’t.” He blows on his coffee and takes an experimental sip. “She chilled out a little after that. And I got into climbing so I used to do that all summer instead.”

“God, summer is the best when you’re a kid.” Joey sighs, clutching her coffee cup in both hands. “Nowadays it’s just… Business as usual, but sweatier.”

“Summer still has its perks. Plus we can drink now.”

Hudson scoffs. “Sure, like you didn’t when you were fifteen.” She lowers her voice again. They’re alone in the station’s tiny kitchen, but she opts for caution in case Earl or Nancy is wandering about. “I’m worried though, Stace. This whole cult, commune thing. It feels like it’s growing fast. Like they’ve got big plans.”

“I know. And we’re not exactly equipped to do much about it.”

Joey stares into space, shaking her head slowly. “No. We’re not.”

-

Pratt and Ash spend the whole day Thursday checking on floodwater levels out at the Henbane River. A couple of farms and residences were affected worse than others, and the area around Sabre-Tooth Springs always gets hit badly in rainy season. Luckily this year hasn’t been as disastrous as the spring before, and the waters are starting to subside. They’re able to reposition the warning tape in some spots and remove it completely in others. Ash snaps pictures on his phone to post to the Sheriff’s department Facebook page. The deputies like to keep the community updated on events and safety issues, plus social media is a great way to waste time in the office on dull days.

Ash makes Pratt pose for a couple of shots, standing like a dork in front of the hot springs, and uploads them before Staci can stop him.

“We get more page views when there’s staff in the photo,” he argues, flashing that winning smile. “Community engagement, Pratt.”

“Yeah, well, I think people would rather engage with your face than mine.” He makes sure Ash is the one posing beside the next waterlogged field on their route.

They’re about done for the afternoon and ready to drive back to Fall’s End when Pratt looks up at the rise of Angel’s Peak above them.

He gives Ash a sidelong glance. “Say, what do you think about maybe checking out the old convent?”

Ash peers up at the mountain and then back at Pratt. Hudson has already filled him in on its new owner. “Like, now?”

“Yup.”

“I don’t know. What would the Sheriff say?”

“He’d have to know about it to say anything.” Pratt turns the ignition key. “We can cruise past first, make sure the coast’s clear.”

Ash draws breath in through his teeth. “All right, man. Can’t say I’m not curious.”

Staci threads the SUV up the mountainside with ease. He’s had plenty of practice driving on these roads, usually to call on Sharky Boshaw for his latest parole violation. The wipers squeak on the windshield as they reach the farmland that surrounds the convent on two sides.

There’s no sign of life as they coast past the gate at the end of the driveway. Pratt takes them a little further down the road before turning and doubling back. He pulls in by the gate and leaves the engine idling.

The painted sign that would have welcomed them to Sisters of St Francis of Perpetual Adoration has gone from the roadside. A new notice on the gate heralds _Private Property: No Trespassing_ in strident red and white above the code referencing Montana law. There’s nothing even slightly ambiguous about the message, but in spite of that, Staci finds himself mentally talking his way around.

“So, what are we doing?” Ash asks.

Pratt drums his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment. “We’re gonna take a look.”

The gate isn’t locked, so he takes the truck a little way along the drive and parks out of sight of the road. They head the rest of the way on foot, dodging puddles on the gravel path.

A tall panel fence circles the convent, labelled on every other section with more _Private Property_ signs. A wider panel across the drive acts as a gate for vehicle access, and it hasn’t been pushed all the way back into place, so Staci sticks his head through the gap to check they’re alone. Content, he beckons Ash through.

He remembers the place being a lot bigger from his sole day at bible camp, but he was only thirteen at the time. He recounts the tale to Ash as they wander around the grounds.

“How is Bobbi doing?” Ash asks afterwards. “Does she still hate me?”

“Nah, man, she never hated you. Well, not for long. Trust me, she got plenty of drama out of that situation, so in a way you did her a favour.”

Ash and Bobbi dated for a while, about four years back. It started in the summer while Ash was home from college, staying at his mom’s place in Fall’s End, but Bobbi’s attempts to rekindle the relationship at Thanksgiving backfired when Ash came out. He was still closeted at school, where varsity baseball exerted even more pressure to conform, but under the scrutiny of Hope County his news spread like lightning.

No one much cared about Ash’s sexuality by the time he joined the Sheriff’s department. For starters, they’d already gotten over the shock of their first Queer Deputy, Pratt having claimed that prestigious title. More importantly the community wanted to support Trevor Ash in any way they could. Tragedy struck his family in 2015 when his father, a volunteer firefighter for James County, died in the forest fire that raged through the mountains in both regions. Ash could have made it as a professional athlete. Instead he’d dropped out of college and come home to live with his mom, and the two of them took in Trevor’s two half-siblings. He’s a different kind of hero to his father, but a hero nonetheless.

At first glance there doesn’t seem to be much of interest at the convent. Staci passes waterlogged tyre tracks out front and wanders to the church. He shines his flashlight into the dim hall within and leans his face close to the glass. Inside looks clean and untouched. The floors are clean and the pews make neat rows, the polished wood gleaming softly in the light Pratt sweeps over them. It looks in remarkable repair for a place that’s been shut down for two years. They walk around the walls and peer inside every now and then. Up at the front of the chapel they see sheets laid along the base of one wall. Cans of paint and used rollers.

“They’re decorating just as it is,” Staci says. “Guess that means they’re not converting it into luxury apartments.”

They head through the covered walkways to the smaller building which where the nuns would have lived, as well as local teenagers for two weeks in the summer vacation. Pratt grins as he pictures a gangly Joey Hudson making out with her boyfriend in some shadowy corner.

The first dorm they look into is crammed with new furniture. Tables and stacking chairs, some still wrapped in plastic. The contents of the next room are more interesting. Black crates with metal edges and clasps, the kind you might see roadies heft around on stage at rock concerts. Tall lamps with folded shades like collapsed umbrellas. Various other tubes and boxes.

“That’s weird,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Check these out.” Staci taps the glass, pointing. “Those look like the sort of lights you’d use for shooting a movie.”

“Huh. Yeah.” Ash cups his hands over his forehead to get a better look. “You think there could be cameras in those crates?”

“Fuck if I know.”

He squints inside for a few more seconds, willing enlightenment to strike. Maybe Hudson will have more ideas.

“We should probably get going,” Ash says.

“Yeah.”

They trudge back along the drive to the SUV, and kick clumps of mud and gravel from their boots before they climb in.

“I’ll hop out and close the gate behind us,” Ash says, but before they are even through it they hear the roar of a car engine.

A Jeep tears in out of nowhere and screeches to a halt just a couple of cars’ lengths from the truck, blocking the path.

“What the—”

Pratt doesn’t even get his words out before the door of the Jeep flies open and the driver jumps out.

“Oh, god fucking damn it.”

Ash’s hand is already hovering over his sidearm. “I’m… guessing that’s Jacob.”

“You guessed right.” Staci unbuckles his seatbelt.

“He looks pissed.”

Pratt just sighs. “I think that’s his default.”

Something about this feels so inevitable, he thinks, and he only has himself to blame. He doesn’t even bother to question how Jacob knew they were here. It’s easy to believe he was summoned like a malevolent god the minute they stepped onto his sacred land.

Staci’s heart hammers from the suddenness of it, but he knows he has no choice but to confront Jacob. Even if he could weave around the Jeep and make a crazed dash for it, Jacob would only tailgate them all the way back to the department and probably cause an accident in the process. He clenches his jaw and reminds himself that he is an armed law enforcement officer, he has Ash as backup, and regardless of being caught red-handed, he absolutely does _not_ need to let Jacob Seed intimidate him.

He gets out of the car.

“Couldn’t last one week, could you?” Jacob snarls as he storms towards the cruiser. He’s not wearing his army jacket this time, just jeans and a grey t-shirt spotted with rain. A dog whistle on a chain swings wildly against his chest as he moves.

“Jacob,” Pratt begins, one palm out in a useless attempt to pacify him. “Slow down.”

Jacob does slow, but only because he’s almost upon him. “Thought you needed some training before they let you put on that uniform,” he rants on, coming to a stop on the other side of Staci’s open car door. He takes advantage of his extra height to glare down into Pratt’s face. “But I guess they don’t even care if you’re illiterate.”

He jabs a finger at the open gate beside them, emblazoned with the unmistakeable _No Trespassing_ sign. Jacob’s dig smarts a little, but Staci bites his tongue and takes a second to turn and duck his head into the cruiser to nod to Ash, who is watching in wide-eyed concern.

“I got this,” he says, and folds the door closed. Doing so removes the protective shield between him and Jacob, but he instinctively knows that keeping it there will only show his weakness.

“Just drove in to take a quick look at the place, Jacob,” he says, and he’s quite proud of how level his voice is. “No harm intended.”

“I warned you—”

“No, you didn’t.” Pratt raises his volume just enough to cut Seed off. “You told me to stay off your property, but this isn’t your property, it belongs to your brother John. I’m happy to talk to him about it. But until then, how about you back the hell up and let us through.”

Seed narrows his eyes and he gives Pratt a cold, evaluative up-and-down look. The rain turns his red hair a darker shade and drips into his grizzled face, plasters his shirt to his shoulders. He doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Don’t think you’re gonna get past me,” he says. His voice is quiet, even soft. It makes him more unnerving instead of less. “I’ve seen you sniffing around, asking questions. You two, and your friend. Hudson. Trying to dig up dirt on my brothers. The three little piggies, just _desperate_ to find something to run on home and squeal about.”

Staci squints up at Jacob’s face. He really, really hates being called a pig.

“S’pose you think that makes you the Big Bad Wolf?” he replies.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Jacob replies, showing his teeth. He steps even closer. “And I’m gonna huff and puff and blow your house down.”

He stops with his forehead barely two inches from Pratt’s. Trying to force him to bend back against the door; show his throat like a submissive dog. But Staci refuses to budge or even blink, even when he feels Seed’s chest bump against his. He can smell Jacob’s sweat mingled with the rain.

Then Jacob just grunts, a little huff that could be a laugh or a growl, and he’s walking away.

Staci stares at his back for a few long, numb seconds. He gets back into the truck in a daze.

“Shit,” Ash says. “You good?”

“Yeah, thanks for the stellar back-up there, man.”

“You said ‘I got this’!”

Staci shakes his head and starts the engine. He watches Jacob climb back into his Jeep without looking back. He backs up just enough to let the SUV pass.

Pratt coaxes the truck through the gap and turns onto the road. He eyes the Jeep in his rearview mirror until he’s sure Jacob isn’t going to pursue, then breathes in deep and sighs it out. He’s unsettled, blood thrumming with adrenaline, but his mind is strangely calm. He ought to be worried and he knows it. No doubt he will once the shit hits the fan. John Seed can destroy them just as easily as Jacob, only he’ll use the law rather than his bare hands. But right now Staci is distracted by the suspicion he scored a small victory by not cowering like the big bully wanted.

That, and… did Jacob Seed just call him _sweetheart_?


	4. Chapter 4

Pratt knows it’s going to be a bad day the moment he sees John Seed’s convertible parked in the Sheriff’s station lot.

Nancy chirps her usual greeting as Staci heads inside, but her eyes are on the door to Earl’s office. It’s closed and the blinds are down. Earl’s blinds are never down.

Joey and Ash sit in rigid silence at their work stations.

“He’s been in there ten minutes,” Joey tells Staci once he reaches his own desk. She worked the night shift so she should be on her way home by now, but Pratt knows nothing could drag her away when Seed family drama is playing out right under her nose. “And I’m guessing from what Ash told me, and the shit-eating grin on Seed’s face when he walked in, that the two of you are in the shit.”

“Fuck.” Staci catches Ash’s eye. “He say anything to you?”

Ash shakes his head. “Just ‘good morning’.” There’s a flush on his face and Staci suspects not all of it is shame.

“I need coffee for this,” he grumbles, but makes no move to get up. There doesn’t seem much point when his future in the department may be about to go up in flames.

There’s movement in Earl’s office and muffled male voices; one gruff and the other clear. After what feels like an eternity the door opens.

The Sheriff is smiling, which gives Staci some hope. John is, too, which dashes it again.

He’s so different to Jacob. Staci supposes that’s to be expected if what he’s heard is true and the brothers spent so much of their lives apart. Every inch of John screams money. Success. He’s dressed in a dark blue suit with a paler blue shirt underneath, casually unbuttoned at the neck. Everything is perfectly tailored and pressed, and the man himself elegantly groomed.

Seed meets Staci’s eye as he scans the outer office, and it’s hard not to blush like Ash.

“Deputy Pratt, what a pleasure,” he says, approaching Staci’s desk with the kind of smile reserved for predators waiting for their prey to weaken enough to be picked off. Even his voice is clean and clipped; none of Jacob’s rough edges.

He takes his hand from the pocket of his perfect pants and extends it to Staci. His nails are immaculate too, of course. Staci gets to his feet. He feels like an awkward mess in front of someone so stylish, and it irritates him. The briefcase in John’s other hand probably cost as much as Pratt’s annual salary.

“Mr Seed.”

“Please, call me John.” John’s grip is warm and strong. He gives Staci’s hand a last little squeeze before releasing it.

Despite their differences, John and his brother have the same colour eyes. That riveting sky blue. John’s face is slimmer and finer boned than Jacob’s, but there’s something familiar in his profile when he turns towards Earl.

“Forgive me, Sheriff, but I have business to get back to.”

“Absolutely, John. Don’t want to keep you. And apologies again for all the bother. Here, let me walk you out.”

John bids the deputies and Nancy farewell, his eyes lingering just a second longer on Ash before he is on his way out the door.

“My God,” Nancy sighs. “To be twenty years younger.”

The door jangles as Earl heads back inside, and he speaks to Nancy in a low voice for a minute. Staci and Ash try to look busy. Maybe a call will come in and give them a last minute distraction.

“Pratt,” Earl barks.

No such luck. Staci looks up and the smile has dropped from the Sheriff’s face. The impressive wings of his moustache are turned down in a scowl.

“My office.”

-

It’s worse than he thought. Whitehorse talks him sharply through the purpose of John’s visit, and it turns out Jacob wasn’t the only witness to their trespass. The whole thing was captured on security cameras around the property. John even brought along a copy of the footage to show the Sheriff.

Staci slumps in his chair feeling like a giant fucking idiot. Which he is, for not realising that of _course_ Jacob is the type to install CCTV. Why hadn’t he thought to look for cameras?

Earl loves his deputies, cares for them like family, but he isn’t prepared to lie for them when they fuck up. He was forced to admit he’d had no knowledge of their presence at the convent, and it certainly was not authorised. All of which gives John a perfect case against them should he choose to pursue it. Staci and Ash are, essentially, screwed.

“Maybe I didn’t make this clear enough last week, so let me remind you. I sent the three of you out to build relationships with that family, not to investigate them. But even if I had… Jesus Christ, Pratt, the place is plastered in private property signs. You only get to plead ignorance once.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Staci rubs his face miserably. “Am I suspended?”

Earl’s moustache angles down even more sharply.

“Not today,” he grumbles. “Lucky for you, John Seed doesn’t want to get involved in whatever goddamn feud you have going with his brother. He’s willing to be the bigger person and overlook this whole sorry incident, provided it does not happen again. And I’m letting you off with a warning, on one condition.”

He lays it out, and Pratt’s day suddenly gets even worse. But he has no choice other than to agree. Earl is doing him a huge favour as it is.

“Just tell me what you were thinking, Pratt. I know you’re a better cop than this. What did you think you were going to find?”

Staci sighs. He promised Hudson he’d wait until they had something conclusive before spilling the beans, but he has to give Earl something. He takes a deep breath and explains as best he can, picking out the most salient details the three of them have uncovered. The Jessops’ property. The mysterious Faith Seed. The guns (again, for all the good it did him last time). Jacob’s suspiciously high levels of security.

Earl fiddles with his pen while he listens. It’s one of those that writes in four different colours, with four little switches on the outside, and he won’t stop clicking them over and over. Staci gets sick of watching him play with it so he stares at the pictures on the wall as he talks. There’s a photograph of Earl with his former deputy and best friend, Bill Decoteau, on a fishing boat on Silver Lake, grinning over a giant sturgeon. Another of Bill and Nancy at a fundraiser. One of Joey, Staci and Danny outside the station from when Staci was still a rookie. Earl with Jerome Jeffries. Earl and Joey with Mayor Minkler. Various newspaper clippings.

There’s an awkward silence once Staci finishes his lacklustre tale. Joey always makes it sound so much more convincing.

“Tell me the truth, son,” Earl says, as though reading his mind. “Did Hudson get you started with all this… cult nonsense?”

“No, sir. Absolutely not. It was all of us together. Well—Fair enough, I guess we did drag Ash into it. But don’t blame Joey for this.”

“I’m not trying to place blame,” Earl replies wearily. “But I know what she’s like. She’s tenacious at the best of times, but she’s still angry over Danny. And we all are, I know, but Joey most of all. She’s looking for a fight she thinks she can actually win. But this ain’t it. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes, Earl. I understand.”

“Good.” Earl’s pen has jammed up with his incessant fidgeting, so he tosses it onto the desk with a clatter. He sighs. “Now go on, get the hell out of here. And send Ash in.”

Staci’s shoulders sag as he gets up and leaves. He feels like slamming the door behind him, but Earl isn’t the one in the wrong here, so he clicks it closed with care. Hudson and Ash are watching as he returns to his desk. Nancy is taking a call, but she keeps peering at him too over the rims of her glasses. Staci gestures to Ash that it’s his turn, then settles into his office chair and just keeps on sinking, arms dangling over the armrests and legs sprawled out under his desk.

A moment later, Joey’s chair scoots up beside his.

“Come on. Spill. What’d you find up there?”

Pratt scowls. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“Well obviously you’re not in that much trouble. If it was bad you’d be crying.”

“Shut up, I would not.”

“Whatever. Now tell me.”

“Nothing. It was a waste of time. And for your information, I _am_ in trouble. Earl’s making me go and grovel to Jacob Seed.”

“Seriously? That’s it?”

He spins his chair to face her. “You haven’t met him, Joey. The man is a psychopath. We weren’t even at the convent for half an hour and he drove all the way from the fucking Whitetails in time to chew us out. He’s probably going to shoot me and feed me to his dog. Maybe in that order, if I’m lucky.”

“Stop being a drama queen. And think about it. This gives you another opportunity to take a look at his place—”

Staci groans loudly before she can continue. “Stop, Joey, _please_. Just give it a rest, okay? I can’t risk getting in any more shit.”

He turns back to his desk and grabs some folders from his in tray. Hudson doesn’t take the hint.

“You really didn’t find anything up at the convent?”

“No. They’re just painting the place up, making it nice. And there were cameras and lights and shit. I don’t know what they were for, but I also don’t care.”

Joey huffs and rolls her chair away.

Whitehorse seems to be done with Ash a lot quicker, although it may only seem that way to Staci because his own grilling was so uncomfortable. Trev shuffles out, bashful and red-faced. None of the kids likes to disappoint Dad.

“God, look at the two of you,” Hudson says, shaking her head as Ash returns to his desk. “One rap on the knuckles and you’re rolling over. You know this is exactly what John wants, right?”

The other two fastidiously ignore her, and after a moment she sighs. She drops her bag and jacket back onto her seat.

“If you can’t get through to him, I will.”

She straightens her uniform with grim determination, and goes to knock on Earl’s door.

“Was it bad?” Ash stage-whispers from behind his computer once Joey is inside.

Staci peers at him over the top of the document he’s not reading. “Not as bad as it could’ve been,” he replies. “But it wasn’t fun.”

“What did he say to you? I have to go over to John’s ranch to apologise.” He has the nerve to sound upset.

Staci pivots his chair so Ash can’t see him roll his eyes. Some punishment; John probably orchestrated this for that sole purpose.

“I have to go do the same to Jacob,” he says. “Make sure Joey says something nice about me in her eulogy.”

“Her what?”

Staci is about to either curse at Ash or finish sliding completely under his desk, but he’s interrupted by a commotion from Whitehorse’s office.

“Christ on a cracker, Hudson, not you too!” the chief’s voice bellows from behind the blinds.

“Uh-oh,” Ash murmurs.

_Uh-oh_ indeed. A couple of minutes later, Joey emerges from Whitehorse’s office, cheeks aflame. Her eyes are a little pink, too, like she’s on the verge of tears. Staci knows better than to draw attention to it.

“You okay, Joe?” Ash asks as she walks stiffly to her desk.

Hudson just snatches up her things and hooks her bag over her shoulder. On her way to the exit, she pauses by Pratt’s workstation.

“This isn’t over yet,” she mutters.

Staci watches her leave with the foreboding feeling that she’s right.

-

Whitehorse is adamant that Pratt and Ash do their bowing and scraping to the Seed brothers on their own time, so they’re occupied with regular work until six. Staci goes through the motions of his day with a growing sense of dread.

It isn’t even that he’s scared of Jacob Seed. He doesn’t think the man is actually unhinged enough to _hurt_ him; it’s all just been posturing so far. Seed asserting his dominance. No, what really sucks is that he has to go and tell that asshole that he was right and Staci was wrong, and that he’s terribly sorry for any inconvenience or offence he caused. His pride shrivels a little more every time he thinks about it.

Ash is out with Earl most of the day dealing with a non-fatal but messy truck accident in Hawkeye tunnel. Pratt stays at the station to cover dispatch over Nancy’s lunch break, and with no more urgent demands on his time he clears his pending paperwork by mid-afternoon. A couple of people drop by during the day, including Ash’s mom. She has to pick up the car they share so she can drive to work. Staci tells her he’ll drop Ash home after their shift. Anything to delay calling on Jacob Seed.

By the time Earl and Ash return, Pratt has answered all outstanding emails and the queries on their Facebook page. There are comments on the flood photos they added the day before, and a number of likes. The shots of Ash have been liked by none other than John Seed.

He tells Ash so as he drives him home after their shift. His colleague is predictably flustered.

“I mean, he probably just follows the page,” he mumbles. “You know. And likes everything.”

“Nope, only the pictures with you in them.” They drive on in silence for a little while. “Are you nervous?”

“Of course. I’ve never been in trouble with Earl before.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Staci replies. “And don’t worry about it. You’re not in the shit. He knows it was my idea to go to the convent. Plus I’m the moron who already got caught out a week ago. Just—Don’t stress about your job, okay? You’ll be fine. Go have your chit-chat with the hot brother and enjoy yourself.”

“You’ll be fine too,” Ash assures him. “With Earl, and with Jacob Seed. And anyway, John’s not the only hot brother.”

Pratt snorts. “You’re not serious?”

“Sure. You don’t think Jacob’s hot? He has that whole rugged, lumberjack thing going on.”

Staci glances away from the road to flash him an expression of disgust. “You just didn’t get close enough to see the murder in his eyes.”

Ash smiles his big easy smile. “Whatever. He backed down when you talked to him yesterday, right?

“Only because he had a witness.” Pratt watches the scenery go by for a moment. “And he is not hot.”

“Why not? Because he has those scars?”

“No, of course not. Jesus. I’m not that shallow.”

“Then what? I thought you liked those big masc guys with beards.”

“What? I don’t—Fuck off, Ash, don’t you use that against me. He’s unattractive because he has a terrible attitude, okay?”

Ash chuckles. “So that means physically you think he’s attractive, but his personality ruins it?”

“No, because I don’t think he’s hot, period. If you do, then fine, help yourself to a Seed brother orgy. But I don’t.”

“Okay, dude, chill. Subject closed.”

“Good,” Pratt replies, and takes the next turn a little faster than he should.


	5. Chapter 5

Pratt blasts the radio his entire drive up to St Francis Veterans Centre. It helps keep his mind off his nerves and Ash’s nonsense. Still, he’s tense by the time he pulls up outside.

He leaves his car by the path and walks to the gates. They’re wide open today, and a man Staci doesn’t recognise is unloading crates from the back of a van in the front court. He glances up as Staci approaches.

“Can I help you?”

Pratt is a little taken aback. He’d taken the man to be a delivery driver, but perhaps he’s working here.

“Uh, I’m here to see Jacob Seed?”

The man raises one eyebrow and flicks his gaze over Staci’s uniform.

“He in trouble?”

“Not at all. It’s, uh, unofficial business.”

“Really,” the guy replies with the quick flash of a grin. His accent isn’t local and his tan suggests he’s spent recent months somewhere a lot warmer. He turns and hollers towards the open front door. “Hey, Jake! There’s a young man here to see you.”

His voice tints the words ‘young man’ with amusement, and it sets Pratt on edge even more. The fuck is this guy’s problem?

Jacob appears in the doorway a moment later. He looks as surly and forbidding as ever, but doesn’t seem surprised to see Staci. He tips his head in a minimalist greeting. He makes no further move, so Staci figures it’s intended as permission and heads towards the building.

“Deputy Pratt,” Jacob says as he nears the door.

“Jacob. Mind if I have a word?”

Those blue eyes stare him down for a few seconds before Jacob nods again. He turns and leads the way inside. The gigantic dog trots along beside him, and Staci follows them both in silence.

Considering the disarray the hospital was in last time Pratt set foot inside, it’s hard to believe he’s in the same building. The filth and junk are long gone and the graffiti painted over. Some of the wood panelling still awaits repair, but the doors are either new or restored and the checkerboard tile is bright under his feet.

Jacob pauses at an open door leading off from the lobby.

“Head on out and give Pruitt a hand, would ya?” he says to someone inside.

Another voice replies. “You got it, Boss.”

Staci gets a quick look at the third man as he passes the door. He’s forty-ish, like the guy outside, with hair buzzed right down to his scalp. The room itself is more interesting. There’s a desk underneath a bank of a dozen or more colour monitors, each showing interior or exterior scenes. This must be where Jacob caught him and Ash poking around the convent. What Joey wouldn’t give to get eyes in here...

He only gets the briefest glimpse before Jacob is ushering him into a huge kitchen. The room has been completely refurbished with glossy, expensive-looking appliances and counter tops.

“What can I do for you, Deputy?”

“Nothing,” Staci replies. “Other than give me a few minutes of your time.”

Another almost subliminal nod of Jacob’s head.

Staci wants to avert his eyes as Seed watches him, but he doesn’t want to seem a coward, so he keeps his head high and pushes on.

“I’m here to apologise for my behaviour yesterday,” he says. He’s rehearsed these lines in his head all day. Even out loud a couple of times. “It was wrong of me to go sneaking around on private property, not just once but twice. I know I shouldn’t have done it, and I’m sorry.”

Jacob folds his arms and leans against the counter, listening intently. His height seems more pronounced now Staci is seeing him indoors for the first time. Jacob inviting him into his home at all is pretty astonishing, given their last two encounters.

Every time Staci has run through this moment in his head he pictured Seed’s reaction being either one of smug triumph or total disdain. It’s neither.

“Did the Sheriff tell you to come out and say all that?”

Staci opens his mouth to deny it, but thinks better of it. This isn’t all that terrible now he’s doing it. May as well stick with honesty.

“Yeah,” he admits, and smiles sheepishly. “But he was right. I pride myself on being good at my job, making good decisions. But what I did was… Well, I realise I acted in a very unprofessional manner. It won’t happen again. You have my word.”

Jacob is quiet for a moment, then goes to the gigantic refrigerator and opens the door.

“Beer?”

Staci would love one, but opts to stay sober for his drive home. “Uh, no thanks.”

Jacob takes out a bottle for himself, and a big plastic-wrapped package in the other hand. He tosses the latter down on a chopping block with a moist _slap_. Meat. Staci thinks it’s most likely venison, judging by the cut and the colour as Jacob unwraps it. Probably hunted by Jacob himself. He watches as Jacob unhooks a meat cleaver from the wall and hacks off a good-sized chunk. The giant wolf-dog sits and watches too, attention so rapt with his master’s preparations that Staci could probably open fire and it wouldn’t be distracted.

Seed addresses Staci without turning round. “You’re suspicious of me, aren’t you, Pratt?”

Staci is once again torn between the truth and a lie. In the end he opts for, “I was.”

“And now?”

Staci shrugs. “Got no particular reason to be.”

Jacob glances over his shoulder and eyes him knowingly. “But still,” he says, and lifts his empty hand to make a tapping motion against the shaved side of his skull. “There’s something… nagging at you, isn’t there?”

“What do you want me to say? Yeah, okay. I think whatever you have going on here is weird.” He looks around at the kitchen, far too large for one man and his dog. Even if the two men outside are staying here they’ll be rattling around in all this space. “That doesn’t mean you’re breaking the law.”

Jacob goes on chopping meat. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Being suspicious. Too many people coast through life believing everything they see and hear. But staying on alert, acting on instincts; those are valuable skills. It’s what has kept our species alive so many thousands of years.”

Staci has no idea where Jacob is going with this, so he simply watches him pick up a metal dish from the floor and slide the chopped meat into it with the edge of the cleaver. He sets the dish back on the tiled floor, and Judge is on it in a heartbeat. Jacob crouches beside the dog for a moment, watching it eat. Staci can’t help but notice how broad his back and shoulders are under his shirt. He flashes back to the night before when he was backed up against the SUV. Jacob up in his face, stealing his air. Relishing his discomfort.

Ash’s voice drifts up in Pratt’s mind, unbidden: _He has that whole rugged, lumberjack thing going on._ God fucking damn it, Staci had managed to forget that but now it’s right back there at centre stage.

Jacob stands up and goes to the sink to wash his hands.

Pratt wants to ask him, _Are you telling me I’m right to be suspicious of you?,_ but Jacob changes the subject.

“Tell me, Pratt. Why’d you go into law enforcement?”

“Uh...” Staci shifts his weight awkwardly. “Well… It may sound corny, but I wanted to do something positive that helps the community. I know it’s quiet out here, but people still need order. Someone looking out for them when things go wrong.”

“Protection.”

“Exactly.”

Jacob soaps up his hands and rubs them together under the faucet. “That’s something we can agree upon. I’ve always wanted to be a protector. It’s in my nature. But I guess you’ve probably noticed that about me. Think it comes from being the eldest in my family. You?”

“Huh? Oh, no. I have an older sister. And two younger ones.” And all three of them would laugh their asses off at Staci if he claimed to be their protector, but he doesn’t need to tell Jacob that.

“The only boy, then.” He shuts off the water and reaches for a towel. “I tried to protect my brothers when we were kids. Later on I thought I was helping to protect the whole damn country, but I learned the hard way that nobody can do that. Nowadays, I keep it in perspective. I choose to protect my family again.”

Staci nods slowly, though he is still as lost as before. He realises he’s been watching Jacob’s hands—which one could feasibly describe as big, rugged, lumberjack hands—so he looks up at his face instead. He hopes Seed isn’t about to tear into him again for threatening his family.

Jacob watches him. When he isn’t squinting in a rage, his eyes are surprisingly large and thoughtful.

“What are the benefits like?”

That has Staci blinking in surprise. “Uh, they’re decent. Full medical plus eye care. Plenty of training options. Why, you thinking of a change of career?” The joke trips lamely off his tongue.

“No, but I thought you might be.” Jacob lets that sink in for a moment. He fetches his beer from the counter and twists off the cap. “I’m still recruiting for my team. You’re young, in good shape. I’m assuming you know your way around a sidearm, and probably rifles too if you grew up around here. Plus you can pilot a chopper. That’s a valuable skill. And most of all, you follow those instincts. Even if it means bending the rules a little.”

Staci has no idea what to say or what to respond to first. (Of course he knows sidearms, he’s carrying right now for god’s sake; hell yeah he can shoot a rifle; since when was Jacob even remotely okay with him bending the rules? And _good_ _shape?_ What does that mean?)

“Recruiting?” he says. “For what? You never actually told me what you do out here.”

“Sure I did. I’m in security.” He tuts softly at Staci’s perplexed expression. “As in, I have my own private security firm, and I need capable people. I’m having to re-staff since we relocated. I don’t know what figures you’re pulling in as a deputy, but I’d offer more. I think you might be made of the right stuff.”

Pratt can feel his skin warming as though he did take Jacob up on that beer after all. The absolute last thing he expected from this man was to be complimented.

“Huh. Sorry, I’m just… surprised. The other times we met, you acted as though you think I’m...”

“Think you’re what?”

Staci rolls his shoulder in a shrug. “A little bitch.”

Jacob laughs, big and loud. It startles Staci as much as if he’d started barking at him. His grin comes out on display, though it’s less shark-like now.

“Maybe we didn’t start out on the best footing,” he says. “But you seem like you’re willing to stand up for yourself. And it takes strength to make an apology.”

“Okay. Uh...”

_Strength_. That one word, more than any other, makes Pratt’s chest puff out with pride. He tries to mask his expression and play it cool. He shakes his head to get his thoughts back on track. What did Jacob ask him again? Right, he offered him a job. A pig may fly past the window any second.

“I’m flattered, Jacob, honestly. But… I really love my job. I’m not looking to leave.”

“Thought you might say that. Loyalty is a fine quality, too.” Jacob narrows his eyes. “You thinking you might make Sheriff one day?”

“God, I don’t know. Maybe. I haven’t really thought too far ahead.”

“Always think ahead, Pratt. Life goes by before you know it. You should always have an idea which direction you want to be pointed in. And it never hurts to have a back-up.”

“I’ll bear that in mind. Thank you.”

Jacob takes a swig from his bottle, and the silence drags on into awkwardness.

“Well, I shouldn’t take up any more of your time,” Pratt says with a gesture towards the door.

“Right.”

Jacob doesn’t move, so Staci goes to see himself out. He’s halfway across the lobby when a voice halts him.

“Hey, Pratt.”

Jacob looms in the kitchen doorway. He takes a leather wallet from his back pocket and flips it open as he walks toward Staci. He holds something out to him. It’s a business card.

“For back-up,” he says.

Feeling dazed, Staci takes it. “Thanks.”

After another nod goodbye, he makes it to the front door. This time he’s the one to call out at the last moment.

“Okay, I just gotta ask. What are the cages for?”

Jacob stares him down, and Pratt’s unease resurfaces. He’s pushed too far.

“Trespassers,” Jacob says.

Staci can only blink at his deadpan expression. It doesn’t change, but after a moment Seed’s cool eyes soften a little.

“Dogs, Pratt. They’re for dogs.”

“Right,” he laughs. “Course. I’ll, uh, see you around, Jacob.”

Back in his car, he sits for a few minutes before starting the engine. Stares at the gates of the Veterans Centre. Takes the business card out of his jacket pocket and stares at that for a while longer, proof that he didn’t just dream the whole encounter. He turns it over in his hand. Black on one side with a white logo: a diamond shape with an odd-looking wolf’s head inside it. It looks almost like a demon. The other side is white, printed with two words in bold type: SENTINEL SECURITY. Underneath is Jacob’s name and cell number. No other information.

He glances back at the hospital with a frown.

Did Jacob Seed just give him his number?


	6. Chapter 6

The air in his trailer is thick and warm when Staci gets back from the Whitetails. He’ll have to fire up the AC before long. He changes into shorts and a t-shirt and sprawls on his couch.

The card Jacob gave him is lying on the coffee table, so he picks it up and looks it over. It’s odd that there’s no website or address on there. Staci brings up Google on his phone and taps in the name, _sentinel security_. It gives him a long list of different firms across the US and a few in Canada, so rather than hunt through them, he scrolls back up and adds _montana_ to the search before trying again.

He doesn’t find an active website, but after some more poking around and checking state registries, he finds a company registered to none other than _Seed, Jacob Ephraim_ under a PO box address in Hope County. He quickly locates the page for Georgia’s Secretary of State. A new search confirms that Sentinel Security LLC was previously registered under Jacob’s name at an address in Rome, GA.

It makes him feel oddly light-hearted to see some legitimate business information linked to the Seeds. Joey will probably be disappointed, but after Staci’s near-miss at work today he’s just grateful for a boring, law-abiding version of events.

He tosses his phone aside and goes to grab a beer from the fridge. It reminds him of Jacob in his kitchen, preparing dinner for his dog. Staci smiles to himself at the weird little slice of domesticity. The man is full of surprises. Not all of them bad.

-

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird that after you two break into their property, Jacob Seed tries to recruit you?”

Joey Hudson sits opposite Staci at her kitchen table with an overstuffed bagel clutched in both hands. She worked the night shift and it’s Staci’s day off, so he brought her breakfast.

“I think it’s very fucking weird,” Staci tells her around a mouthful of bread and bacon. “And we did not _break in._ ”

“You see what’s going on here, right?” She’s wearing her calculating expression again, and it makes him feel tired. “Come on, Stace. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? They caught you snooping around, but decided that rather than threaten you and draw more attention to their whole operation, they’ll try and convert you. Get you on their side.” Satisfied with her analysis, she takes a bite of her bagel.

“Convert us? Seriously?”

Joey nods as she chews. “They’re trying to bring you into the cult.”

He winces. “I don’t think so, Joey...”

“Yeah. Not straight off, obviously. First they tempt you by offering something you want. Take Ash. Obviously what he wants is John’s ass. So John’s flirting with him to get him close. As for Jacob… Maybe he knows where you live and figured you could do with a pay raise.”

Staci licks stray guacamole off his fingers. “What’s wrong with where I live?”

“Nothing. I’m trying to think from _their_ perspective.”

“Well don’t. You’re giving me a headache.”

“Anyway, that’s just the start. Once you take the bait, they start to pull you in deeper with Joseph. Get you all loved up. Before you know it, you’re sipping the fuckin’ Kool-Aid with the rest of them.”

Staci peels back the lid on his coffee cup and blows on it. “It seems like a pretty big stretch.”

“Is it? Joseph already has a camp full of people convinced by him one way or another.”

“Yeah, but they were probably already looking for something to latch onto.”

“Everybody’s looking for something.” Joey sits back in her chair and pins Staci with her eyes. “Okay, tell me this. How did it make you feel when he offered you the job?”

“I don’t know. Confused? Surprised he wasn’t trying to strangle me?”

“Were you flattered?”

Staci thinks about it. Recalls the warm feeling in his chest as he sat in the car looking at Jacob’s card, going over his words in his mind. _Protector. Capable. The right stuff._ His heart starts to sink. There’s a part of him that wants to fight what Joey’s saying, to flip the table and yell that of course Jacob meant those things. But that petulant, defensive voice is proof in itself that he fell into the trap. 

“I guess,” he says.

She nods. “Two days ago, Jacob hated your guts. You said it yourself. Then overnight he did a complete one-eighty. They’re working on you. John’s giving Ash this exact same bullshit, only from a different angle. The flirty looks, the touches. I mean, come on. Ash is a babe, and a total sweetheart, but since when does a man like John Seed give the time of day to a backwoods deputy sheriff? The guy’s a multi-millionaire lawyer in the city. He probably bangs supermodels on weekends. People like us mean _nothing_ to men like him.”

Staci sips his coffee. He knows she’s right and it hurts. Not only that Jacob took him for a fool, but that he proved him right by being taken in so easily.

“I hear you,” he says glumly. “But none of this proves they’re doing anything illegal. I already looked into Jacob’s company and it all seems legit. Registered here and in Georgia. Makes sense of all the weird shit I saw, too. The guns and the dog cages. And their rap sheets are all clean. Well, mostly.”

He and Joey already checked out the Seed brothers’ records back when they first had an inkling of trouble. Joseph Seed’s police records list a couple of arrests for affray some twenty years ago that had come to nothing. Jacob was booked for brawling in his youth, and years later for disorderly conduct and public intoxication. Nothing they wouldn’t find on the rap sheets of half the men in Hope County.

“We’re not gonna trip them up with legal loopholes,” Joey replies. “Not with John taking care of things. We have to keep our eyes on the bigger picture. What are they trying to achieve. Like why do they _need_ armed security in Hope fucking County? It’s total overkill. They have plans.” She takes another huge bite of her bagel and frowns as she chews. “We wait for them to show their hand. And in the meantime, we go over everything again. Ask around. Talk to everyone in the county if we have to. And we s tay focused, Stace. We don’t let them distract or intimidate us.” 

Staci manages to  divert her into normal conversation for  a while, but b efore  he leaves  she hands him a  couple of books.  On e about t he Rajneeshee cult  that settled in rural Oregon and another about David Koresh and the Waco massacre. She’s labelled a bunch of pages with little multicoloured tabs.  Staci feels like she’s giving him homework. 

“We need to educate ourselves,” she tells him. “Unless we stay on the ball, things around here are gonna get real bad, real fast. You mark my words.”

-

The following night Staci meets up with some of his climbing buddies at the Hollyhock Saloon to play pool and discuss plans for the coming summer. Staci hasn’t been climbing since April thanks to the heavy rains, and he’s keen to get back into the mountains.

He watches Grace clean up the table while Eli, her opponent, groans.

“Can’t we tie one of her arms behind her back?” Eli says. “Make it a fair fight?”

Grace smiles. “Maybe you should work on upping your game instead, grandaddy.”

Eli scoffs in mock outrage. “You’re older than I am.”

“It’s the beard.” Grace sinks the eight-ball with a satisfying _thunk_. “What’s with the Old Testament look, anyway?”

Eli strokes his facial hair protectively. “I think it suits me. Staci agrees, right Stace?”

“I don’t know, Chewbacca, I can’t remember what you even look like under all those whiskers.”

“Whatever. I’m not taking fashion advice from a guy who still dresses like a teenager.”

“I do not.” Staci frowns and looks down at his baseball tee, jeans and Converse. “I’ll fuckin’ remember that next time you get pulled over.”

Grace sets up the table again, and Staci glances up to see Dave heading back from the bar with a fresh round of drinks. Behind him, a group of men have just entered the saloon. Staci recognises two of them as the guys Jacob had working at his place the other day. The third is a new face, but he assumes it’s another employee. Jacob isn’t with them.

Staci keeps an eye on them as he plays Grace at pool. He plays better than Eli, but she’s still beating him. At one point she spots him watching the men at their table near the bar.

“You know those guys?”

“No, not exactly. They work for Jacob Seed.”

“Oh yeah?” She takes her shot and stands up to plot her next. “They came up to the range a few days ago. Had kind of an attitude.”

“Yeah? They give you any trouble?”

“Nah. Just acting cocky. Said they were vets, but they were kinda obnoxious about it. Asking about my service. I’m not interested in pissing contests.” She shrugs. “Jacob wasn’t with ’em. He’s always been okay.”

“Jacob comes to the range?”

“Yeah, sometimes. Buys ammo and equipment, or just comes to practice. He knows his stuff. Damn good marksman, too.” That’s high praise indeed coming from Grace, one of the finest sharp shooters in the country.

“And… you think he’s all right? You never got a weird vibe off him?”

“No. Why?”

“I’ve had a couple of run ins with him, that’s all. He’s… I don’t know. Cagey. Secretive.”

“Can’t say I blame him. You can tell the man’s seen some shit.”

Jacob’s men have noticed Staci looking their way, and one of them—the guy he spoke to in the yard the other day—raises his glass.

“Deputy,” he calls, loud enough to hear over the jukebox. He smirks like something’s funny.

Staci just nods in reply and busies himself with the game. Grace wins again, but concedes the table to Eli and Dave so they don’t pout all night.

Later on, Staci is heading back from the men’s room when a collective groan goes up around the bar. The intro to _Disco Inferno_ plays from the speakers.

“You get _one play_ , Boshaw,” Janine hollers from behind the bar. “Any more than that and you’re out on your ass.”

Staci looks over to see Sharky Boshaw at the jukebox with his cousin, Hurk. He sighs. They’re not bad guys, but Sharky is constantly causing some kind of trouble. The Sheriff gets calls about him on a weekly basis. Staci is almost back at his seat when the front door opens and another familiar figure walks in. Jacob. As he starts to glance around the bar, Staci sits down and turns his back before he can make unwanted eye contact.

It’s too much to hope he can avoid Jacob all night. Dave’s brother Wade and his wife have just arrived, and Staci is laughing at the brothers’ latest story about Cheeseburger the bear when the newest member of Jacob’s posse approaches to line up a stack of quarters on the pool table.

“Help yourselves,” Eli laments, passing him his cue. “She’s about to wipe the floor with me anyway.”

The other guy shouts his friends over, and a moment later Jacob’s presence is looming by Staci’s table.

“Deputy.”

Staci nods and gives him only a cursory glance. “Jacob.”

“Hitting the hard stuff, I see.” Jacob gestures to Staci’s bottle of root beer.

“I’m driving.”

“Very responsible.”

Staci fights the urge to tell him to fuck off. As far as Jacob knows, they’re still on civil terms. There’s nothing to be gained by starting an argument. But he’s not about to kiss Jacob’s ass, either.

Speaking of Jacob’s ass. It’s rather distracting when he puts it right in Staci’s line of sight to bend over the pool table and take a shot. His jeans are faded and the stitching worn, and regardless of how nicely he fills them out, Staci can’t figure out why he doesn’t just buy new ones since he’s evidently rich enough to convert the veterans centre into some kind of mansion. Could afford his own pool table, too.

“You okay, Stace?” Dave asks him.

“Huh?” Staci realises he’s been scowling at Jacob Seed’s behind, and snaps out of it before anyone else notices. He may be on the soda now, but he had a couple of beers earlier and he’s still a little buzzed. Makes his focus slip. “Yeah, fine. I’ve just gotta head outside for a sec, okay?”

He gets up and heads around the edge of the saloon to the side door. The air outside is tinged with the green smell of early summer rain, and he breathes it deep. Maybe he should head home soon. He has work in the morning. But first, he crosses the parking lot and lets himself into the passenger side of his Stryus. He keeps a pack of cigarettes in his glovebox, hidden in his first aid kit in case he’s driving with his mom or one of his sisters. He hardly ever smokes, but they’d never believe it. He lights up and sits with the door open so the smoke can dissipate into the evening air.

_Stop being so sensitive_ , he tells himself. He’s been mad about Jacob’s phony job offer since he talked to Joey yesterday, and it’s hard to shove it to the back of his mind with the man strutting around right in front of him. On top of that there was the jibe about his drink, plus that other guy—Pruitt—acting like he’s in on some joke that Staci isn’t privy to. Even Eli’s comment about Pratt’s clothes rankles now he dwells on it. He knows it’s pathetic. Knows he should let it wash over him and flow on by, instead of letting every stupid detail accumulate like river silt until it chokes him with resentment.

Staci’s sexuality isn’t the cause of his hang-ups around masculinity. It does, however, complicate matters. It muddies the waters where desire ends and envy begins. Ash was right about Staci having a type, but his attraction to that particular breed of thick-chested wilderness man only leaves him feeling frustrated and inadequate. He had a pretty bad crush on his friend Eli for a while; straight, married Eli. Staci had fallen for straight men before, but none who made him doubt himself the same way. The last thing he needs is go through that again with someone like Jacob Seed.

He’s halfway through his cigarette and perking up a little on the nicotine when he hears shouts inside the bar. At first he thinks someone’s just getting a little spirited, but the unmistakeable sound of glass shattering has him on his feet. He quickly grinds out his smoke and grabs his gun and cuffs from the glovebox.

Someone’s yelling when he barges back into the saloon, a muffled screech like they have hands to their face. Janine is yelling too, for someone to cut it the hell out.

“Coming through, Deputy Sheriff,” Staci calls out as he elbows his way through the wall of people that have edged backwards to avoid whatever’s going on at the bar. “Out of the way.”

Sharky Boshaw is on his knees on the floor in a puddle of beer and broken glass, blood dripping between the hands clapped over his face. Jacob Seed looms over him. He has the neck of Sharky’s sweatshirt bunched in his fist, and it almost looks like he’s trying to help him up, if not for the spots of blood on his other hand and the look in his eyes. It’s cold, almost dead.

Staci doesn’t hesitate. Sidearm jammed into the back of his waistband, he steps forward and pushes his body in between the two men, forearm planted high on Jacob’s chest.

“Let him go,” he says, clear and calm. “Jacob. Step back.”

Jacob does so without taking his eyes off Sharky. Staci is aware of someone coming up from behind to help Sharky shuffle out of Jacob’s reach. He thinks he hears Grace amidst the racket of everyone talking at once, and Sharky cursing a blue streak about his busted nose, but his attention is all on Jacob.

“Come on. Take a breath now. Easy.”

Jacob straightens to his full height, still watching Sharky over Staci’s shoulder.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

Jacob’s jaw works like he’s grinding his teeth. “Talking shit,” he says, barely loud enough for Staci to hear.

“All right, well, we’re done now.”

He pats Jacob’s chest and looks around to assess the situation. It doesn’t look as though anyone else was involved. Jacob’s three stooges are off to one side, watching. Someone else is waving a phone in Jacob’s direction, recording.

“Turn that shit off,” Pratt tells her. He turns to the woman behind the bar. “You okay, Janine?”

“Will be once I get Sharky’s blood off my floor,” she scowls, then glances at Jacob. “Can’t say we haven’t all thought about doing the same once or twice.”

“Can you get onto the station for me? Get Ash up here.”

Janine nods and goes to the phone. People start returning to their seats, but all eyes are still on Staci and Jacob Seed.

“Grace? How’s Sharky doing?”

“He’s fine,” she answers. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“ _He broke by ffuggin doze,”_ Sharky protests from behind the napkins Grace has pressed to his face.

“I gotta book you, Jacob,” Pratt tells him in a low voice. “You understand?”

Jacob just nods.

“You’re not gonna punch me, right?”

Jacob finally looks at Staci as though only now realising he’s there. His face is blank.

“No,” he says.

“All right then.”

He’d rather be safe than sorry, so he takes the cuffs from his back pocket and slots one side around Jacob’s wrist. Jacob stands there, docile and unmoving. He doesn’t resist when Pratt takes his other arm and cuffs it to the other behind his back.

“Let’s go get some fresh air.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally make use of that E rating in this chapter, even if it's just a little bit.   
> And not one but two Seed brothers make an appearance.

It’s starting to spot with rain, so Staci decides to sit Jacob in his car until Ash arrives. He keeps one hand on Jacob’s elbow and leads him across the gravel lot. His scars are textured and bumpy under Staci’s fingers, but his skin isn’t rough.

“My guys are gonna need my keys,” Jacob says as they near Pratt’s Stryus. His voice is flat, as though his feelings haven’t rebooted yet after his outburst in the bar. “To get back in the house.”

Pratt stops him beside the car. “Which pocket?”

Jacob turns to watch him. “The right.”

“All right. I gotta pat you down anyway.”

Jacob’s jacket was abandoned indoors so he’s just in his t-shirt, the fabric snug enough over his chest and shoulders that there’s no chance of a concealed weapon underneath. Pratt does a quick, light frisk around his waistband and steps back.

“Legs apart,” he says.

Jacob obliges for him, still watching Staci over his shoulder.

“Relax, Pratt,” he says, humour peeking out through the fugue. “I left my rifle in my other pants.”

Staci scowls and crouches behind him to pat down each leg. Jacob’s thighs are thick and firm like his arms, though Pratt tries his hardest not to dwell on that. There’s something on Jacob’s right ankle. When he lifts the cuff of Jacob’s jeans to slide the object from his boot, he finds a short hunting knife in a leather sheath.

He sighs. “Seriously?”

“Habit,” Jacob replies casually.

Staci gets back to his feet. “You realise it’s illegal to conceal carry in a bar?”

Seed has nothing to say. Staci avoids his eye to dip his hand into Jacob’s pocket and pull out his keys. He keeps the contact as brief as humanly possible.

“I’ll pass these on to your friends once the duty officer gets here.”

His car is still unlocked after his interrupted cigarette break. He opens the back passenger door and gestures for Jacob to sit.

“Nice ride,” Jacob says.

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. I had one of these in around… nineteen ninety.” When Staci ignores the dig, Jacob moves to climb in. “You realise you have slushie all over your floor?”

“What the—You’ve got to be kidding me.” Pratt leans in and sure enough, a half-finished cup of melted, bright pink slushie has tipped over in the foot well. “Those little fuckers.”

He sighs and slams the door.

“You have kids?” Jacob asks as Pratt leads him around to the driver’s side.

Staci resists the urge to scoff. He can barely keep a houseplant alive. “My niece and nephew. Took them down to visit my mom yesterday.”

Jacob gets into the back seat, looking way calmer than he should considering he’s under arrest for—at best—a misdemeanour assault. He may even be looking at felony charges depending on what went down. There are a couple dozen eyewitnesses who will help determine that. The concealed weapon only makes matters worse. Maybe Jacob is just that confident in his brother’s skills as an attorney. Or maybe he simply doesn’t care.

Staci gets in the driver’s seat and stows his sidearm in the glove box. He leaves Jacob’s keys and knife on the seat beside him.

“You feel like telling me what happened with Sharky Boshaw?”

Jacob meets his eye in the rearview. “You gonna read me my rights first?”

“We’re not on the record,” Staci replies. “But suit yourself, wait for Ash. At least he’s getting paid for this shit.”

“I’d have thought clapping handcuffs on me would make your night, Deputy Pratt.”

If that’s a crack at his sexuality, Staci will damn well make him own it. “And why is that?”

Seed watches him steadily from the back seat. Even with his face half in shadow, his eyes are cool and clear. “Proves you were right about me all along.”

Pratt just turns to stare out the window, wondering if he should light another cigarette. “Proves you’re a pain in the ass,” he replies. “And my night was going just fine without you in it.”

He can’t make sense of Jacob Seed. In the space of four days they’ve had three interactions, during which the man has gone from furious, to flattering—even _friendly,_ and finally to whatever the hell this is tonight. Laid back and gently mocking. Pratt thinks back to the pleasant glow he felt when Seed talked about his strengths, and reminds himself that the man is a manipulator.

“Well, at least we don’t have to pretend to like each other any more,” he says.

Jacob takes a few seconds to respond to that. “That what we were doing?”

“That’s what _I_ was doing,” Staci grumbles. “I don’t actually know what the hell you were doing.”

“You’ve lost me, Pratt.”

Staci catches his eye again in the mirror. He can’t tell if Jacob is being facetious. He should probably drop this now; Ash will be along any minute. But the question he’s been dwelling on all weekend is a nagging itch.

“Why did you offer me that job?”

Jacob settles his shoulders back into the upholstery.

“Already told you,” he says.

“That was bullshit. You never wanted me to work for you. Either you were just fucking with me, or—”

“Or what?”

“I don’t know. Just tell me the truth.”

Jacob pauses long enough that Staci assumes he isn’t going to reply. They watch each other in the mirror and wait.

“My brother,” Jacob says at last. “John. He wanted to smooth things over with the Sheriff’s Department. I encouraged him to press charges, but he calmed me down. My brothers don’t want to rock the boat with the locals. So John had his little chit-chat with your Sheriff, and asked me to play nice.”

“By offering me a job?”

“No. That wasn’t his idea.” Jacob turns and stares off in the direction of the saloon. A couple of bar patrons are standing outside the side door, smoking and pretending not to be on the lookout for further drama. “I knew you’d say no,” he adds, as though that clears everything up.

“Is that so.”

“You’re loyal to your Sheriff, this county. It’s written all over you.”

“So why, then? Some kind of joke?”

“Jesus, you are a prickly bastard, ain’t you?” Jacob shakes his head, but there’s a hint of a smile playing under his moustache. “Look, Pratt. I’m not the sort of man to make small talk. I don’t see the point. My brothers... Those two could talk the skin off a snake. It’s not in my nature.” He pauses and turns back. “But whatever you’re reading into it… I didn’t mean any offence, all right?”

Staci turns in his seat to look Jacob in the eye directly. That almost sounded like an apology.

“So you’re telling me you have terrible social skills, is that it?”

Jacob’s brow creases. “That’s a condescending way to put it.”

“What about giving me your card?”

Jacob shrugs. “Gesture of good will.”

There’s less leg room behind the driver’s seat, and Jacob is a tall man, so he has to sit with his long legs parted so they’ll fit. Sitting with his hands trapped behind him only forces his hips further forward on the seat. Staci realises for the first time how close they are, and how alone. He can smell Jacob’s scent rising off his body heat in the confines of the car. One of his knees is almost brushing Pratt’s side through the gap between the front seats. And he just keeps staring, staring. Seed may be the one under arrest, but in that gaze, Staci feels helpless.

He has to say something to cut through this burden of silence between them.

“I don’t trust you,” he says. Quietly, like a confession. Or a promise.

Jacob looks thoughtful as he contemplates his response. Staci never gets to hear it, because a flash of blue light against Jacob’s face alerts him to the Sheriff’s cruiser turning into the parking lot.

He’s out of the car like lightning, keen to be free of the stifling atmosphere that always seems to grow around Jacob Seed. He waves to Ash over the roof of his Stryus before opening the back.

Pratt gives Ash a breakdown of what he knows, which isn’t a lot considering he missed most of the incident. Ash is in good spirits as he leads Jacob to the cruiser. It’s hardly surprising; Ash can’t stand Sharky Boshaw. When you’ve lost a parent to fire, it isn’t easy to tolerate a known pyromaniac.

The deputies go back into the saloon so Ash can check on Boshaw and hear his side. As Staci’s adrenaline high wears off, he is hit with weariness. He gives Jacob’s keys to the men at their table before bidding his own friends goodnight.

Eli slaps him on the back. “No rest for the wicked, right Staci?”

It’s only as he gets back in his car that he notices Jacob’s knife still lying on the passenger seat. He picks it up and turns it over in his hand. He ought to go back inside and give it to Ash. Instead he finds himself tossing it into the glovebox.

-

Staci sleeps like shit. As soon as his head hits the pillow his eyes refuse to stay closed, tiredness chased off by this jangling energy he can’t shake. He lies there stubbornly for what feels like hours before he finally begins to drift. After floating for a little while in and out of sleep, he wakes up on his front with his hard-on rubbing against the bunched-up sheets. He can’t remember what he was dreaming, but doesn’t even try. He knows who it was about.

“Get the fuck out of my head,” he groans into his pillow.

Jacob refuses, his stare penetrating through Staci’s closed eyes and his consciousness. He shifts on the back seat of the car, lips parted teasingly as he rolls his hips forward. In Staci’s mind there’s no distinction between looking at Jacob’s thighs and running his hands over them, between sitting in the driver’s seat and climbing into Jacob’s lap.

He rolls onto his back in bed and uncovers himself to jerk his dick. He shouldn’t do this. Should at least grab his phone and find some porn starring men who look nothing like Jacob Seed. Keep pretending that the tension he feels around Seed is all about his dislike. But that means waking up even more, and maybe while he’s groggy like this he can get off and fall back to sleep quicker. Maybe even forget this by morning.

He writhes against Jacob, touching and being touched, not dreaming but not awake enough to resist the pull of his thoughts. Kisses and snaps his teeth at those clever lips as Jacob’s beard scrapes his face. Uncuffed, Jacob rubs his big hands up and down Staci’s back, under his shirt, over his ass, conjures his pants out of the way and now the hand around Staci’s dick is no longer his own. The fingers he presses into his ass are a ghost of Jacob’s, getting Staci open and ready.

He whines, bucking harder into his fist. Slides down easily onto the fat cock pressing into him. There’s no gravity to fight as he rides Jacob hard and fast. Jacob talks wordlessly to him, his voice the same hushed, gentle menace that he spoke with when he cornered Staci at the convent. When he had him backed up against the truck in the rain, threatening to blow his house down.

Oh, _fuck_ , he wants that voice in his ear. Purring disrespectful, terrible promises onto his skin while he takes him to pieces.

Staci comes with that thought clearer than any other in his addled mind. For a moment there’s nothing else, just a perfect white-out of bliss as he bucks off the mattress and empties his balls. But Jacob is still there as it ebbs and sleep, tinged with shame, rolls in. Unblinking blue eyes and a flash of teeth in his smile, like a wolf.

-

Pratt doesn’t see Jacob Seed for a while, but nonetheless there’s enough talk of him that he never seems far away.

His arrestee was long gone from the Sheriff’s station by the time Pratt got into work the next morning, bailed out promptly by his brother John. Staci’s relief was so powerful his legs almost buckled. He couldn’t have stood having to meet those eyes again so soon after his late night solo session.

Mid-week, Staci is eating lunch alone in the Spread Eagle when John comes in. He usually spends most business days out of state, but this week he stayed in Hope County to tackle Jacob’s charges. He’s busy on his phone as he stands at the bar to order. Today’s suit is charcoal grey with a black shirt. Expensive sunglasses perch on top of his head. Once his call ends he catches Pratt’s eye before heading to his table and asking to sit.

Staci is a little apprehensive, but he nods. He hopes he hasn’t incurred the full icy wrath of John Seed, Attorney for the Defence.

Quite the opposite, as it turns out.

“I want to thank you,” John says. “For handling things the other night with such professionalism. Particularly after you and Jacob got off to a difficult start.”

Staci clears his throat. He thinks about the confiscated knife sitting very _un_ professionally in his glovebox. John probably knows about it. Perhaps this is his way of acknowledging what Staci did. Only Staci didn’t fail to turn in evidence for Jacob’s sake. He doesn’t have any idea why he _did_ do it, only that it wasn’t to help Jacob Seed.

“Only doing my job,” he mumbles.

John smiles and shakes his head. “I’ve met enough law enforcement officers in my time to know that the words, ‘ _I was only doing my job’_ can be used to disguise a multitude of sins. No, the way you and Deputy Ash treated my brother during his arrest was exemplary. We’re both very grateful.”

“Uh. Thanks. And you’re welcome.”

John looks at the tabletop for a moment, thinking. “I know how my brother comes across,” he says carefully. “Stoic. Aggressive. Like he thinks he’s bulletproof. But underneath all that...” John makes a circling gesture over his heart. “He’s an extremely private man, as you’re no doubt aware. So much so that he’d have my head if he knew I was talking to you. But as his arresting officer, I feel you should know that Jacob’s behaviour the other night was a result of his condition.”

Staci is about to ask what he means, but then he pictures Jacob’s scarred skin. The army jacket and desert combat boots he still wears, as though a part of him never left the service.

He frowns. “He has PTSD?”

John nods. “I can’t give you the details, of course, but even before they sent him marching off to war he was… troubled.”

John’s smile twitches sadly. His eyes dart this way and that as he talks, rarely blinking but always changing. Sometimes they’re shrewd, sometimes sorrowful; sometimes wide and innocent. Staci finds it fascinating how readable they are. He considers that John is in the wrong job; a lawyer shouldn’t be this expressive. And if it’s all an act, the man ought to be in the movies, not a courtroom.

“I’m not certain Jake would still be here if Joseph hadn’t found him when he did.” He sighs. “Or perhaps that’s my experience talking. Our brother Joseph saved us both.”

“What did he save you from?”

John’s eyes turn quick and knowing again. “From devils of my own making,” he says drily. “Mostly excess. Each of us coped with our past in different ways.”

Pratt doesn’t understand, although he’s curious to know more. The Seed family fascinates him regardless of whether or not they’re evil cultists.

“Jacob’s affliction is something he deals with his extremely well, most of the time,” John goes on. “You’ve seen his dog, I assume?”

“Yeah. It’s a beast.”

John rolls his eyes. “And a fur factory,” he adds with disdain. He lowers his voice. “But Jacob needs him. Judge is his service dog. He picks up on all kinds of cues. Nightmares. Little changes in anxiety levels.”

“I had no idea.”

“Why would you? As I said; he’s very private.” John pauses to sip his drink. “I know he didn’t have the dog with him the other night. If he had, it’s likely none of this would have happened.”

Staci has finished his food, so he pushes the plate away and leans his elbows on the table. John mirrors him.

“I’m telling you this so you’ll understand my position,” John explains, gesturing elegantly with both hands. “My argument for the defence is this: Mr Boshaw provoked a reaction for which Jacob cannot be held accountable. With post-traumatic stress, triggers can cause the person to dissociate from the present. Make them feel as though they’re literally under attack. Jacob did his best to disengage from the conversation, but Boshaw kept pushing. Which, granted, still doesn’t make it his fault. But Jacob’s responsibility was greatly diminished in that moment.”

“What the hell did Sharky say to him?”

John purses his lips. “What’s his favourite subject?”

Staci sighs. He doesn’t know why it didn’t occur to him sooner. He thinks of Jacob’s scars again, the old and the new, layered on just about every visible part of his body. How his arm had felt under Staci’s fingertips, like carved wood polished smooth with time.

“Fire?”

“Mm. Let’s just say Jacob isn’t as fond of it as Sharky Boshaw is.”

“I know a little bit about PTSD,” Staci says. “Not personally. But it’s pretty common for peace officers as well as vets. So… I get it.”

“I appreciate your understanding.”

“I don’t really get why you told me, though. I’m glad you did. But you know I can’t change anything.”

“Oh, I’m aware. And it’s already taken care of; I assure you, my brother won’t be going to prison for this. Not while he has me.” The brothers have more in common than Staci thought. The fiercely protective look in John’s eye is the same one Jacob gets whenever he talks about his family, even if Jacob lacks John’s breezy confidence. “I told you because I think your opinion of Jake has been formed... without the necessary context.”

“No offence, but why do you even care what I think?”

“Because it matters to him,” John replies enigmatically. “Whether he’s aware of it or not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments, y'all! Sorry I didn't get round to replying to the last batch, but every one was hugely appreciated. And I hope I didn't upset the Sharky lovers too much.


	8. Chapter 8

“What’s going on with you, Staci?”

Pratt startles and looks up. Hudson just got back from a call out and is watching him from the doorway to the kitchen. Staci only barely registered her return, caught up in his thoughts and grumbling over the thousandth typo he’s made this afternoon. Nancy is taking a long weekend so Staci is picking up the slack in admin by processing permit renewals.

“What d’you mean?”

She crosses the gap to his desk and parks her butt on the edge. “You look tired,” she replies more softly. “You sleeping okay?”

He has the uncanny feeling that she has somehow sniffed out his shame. Never mind the all-seeing eye of the Lord that his mother still warns him about; Staci is more concerned about the wrathful judgement of Deputy Joey Hudson.

“Oh, uh. Y’know.” He shifts guiltily in his seat. “The heat doesn’t help. My AC isn’t working great.”

Joey nods, but she’s not satisfied.

“You sure that’s all it is? You’ve been a little off since last weekend.”

He almost laughs out loud. _A little off_ is an understatement. Staci is off the fucking map. He masturbated to thoughts of Jacob Seed again last night. That’s the third time in a week, and his skin flares hot as he remembers how hard he came with a toy in his ass and Jacob’s name on his lips.

He could almost write off the first time he did it as an accident; the result of confusing dreams with physical arousal. It’s a little harder to explain away his session last night. Or the fact that he stealthily checked out Jacob’s mug shots on the arrest report this morning when no one was around. Or that his ears pricked up every time Jacob’s case was mentioned. For fuck’s sake, he’s been so distracted by the oldest Seed brother that it didn’t even occur to him to get flustered around John when they had their chat in the Spread Eagle.

“I’m fine,” he tells Joey.

“Look, I know it’s disappointing. About Jacob.”

He freezes. “Huh?”

“That the charges didn’t go anywhere. Earl told me.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Turns out John’s confidence in the outcome was justified. Earl headed back from the courthouse this morning with Elizabeth Minkler, the county prosecutor, in tow. Pratt leapt into action to make them coffee, and learned from earwigging on their conversation that Elizabeth was never particularly interested in pushing for a custodial sentence. She was content for Jacob to pay a fine and promise to keep his service dog with him in public places, wherever feasible. He was also instructed to contact the nearest veterans affairs office about continuing his lapsed therapy.

Staci isn’t sure why he felt relieved at the news. Presumably the same reason he failed to turn in evidence that could have changed the court’s decision. It makes him feel sick and powerless. He doesn’t even _like_ Jacob Seed. And even though nobody asked him to intervene the way he did, he feels like he’s being manipulated. Brainwashed.

“Better luck next time, right?” he adds.

“Makes you wonder what else they’ve gotten away with thanks to their golden boy.”

“I wouldn’t say he _got away_ with it, Jo.”

She tuts. “As good as. A fine is meaningless to people with that kind of money. Like, did you hear they went back over to the Hollyhock? They gave Janine cash for a tab to buy drinks for everyone who was in there Sunday night.”

Staci perks up a little. “Nice.”

“Sure, nice way to get eyewitnesses on side.”

“Yeah, well, I definitely earned my free drink.”

“You’re so easy,” Joey scolds, but grins despite herself. She glances around to make sure no one is listening, then hunkers down beside his chair for extra privacy. “Listen, I’ve been thinking. I wanna go check out one of Joseph’s sermons.”

“You serious?”

“Yeah. Now things have calmed down a little bit… I think I can go along without it seeming too suspicious. I can say I’m trying to be more open-minded, or whatever. Build fucking community spirit.”

Staci smirks. “You sure you can sit through it without punching someone?”

Joey snorts. “No. Which is where you come in.”

The smile drops off his face. “Oh, god. I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Come with me,” she wheedles, and literally tugs on his shirt sleeve. “You’ll keep me sane.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning. You’re off too, right?”

He pouts. “Technically, yes, but I’m on nights tomorrow. I was gonna sleep in.”

“You can sleep after. Come on, Stace. We have to do this if we’re gonna keep up with the Seeds.”

He makes a show of turning back to resume his work. “Ask me again later. I’m busy.”

She leaves him to it, looking pleased with herself like she’s already won. Which is probably a fair assumption, because Joey usually gets her way.

Sure enough, as they’re parting ways that evening, she calls to him across the parking lot.

“Nine thirty tomorrow! Make sure you’re up.”

Staci glares at her and hollers back. “You better bring breakfast.”

-

Normally he prepares for a night shift by staying up late the night before playing video games, then sleeping through until one or two in the afternoon. Joey’s excursion throws that plan off, and he’s not sure how to adjust his schedule. He settles for staying up til four and setting an alarm for eight thirty so he can snooze a little before he has to be up. Then, once Joey has finished dragging him around Joseph’s camp, he’ll nap some more in the afternoon.

Fine in theory, but he forgot how useless he is after anything less than six hours of sleep. He snoozes too long and ends up stumbling to the door in his boxers to let in an irate and far too loud Joey Hudson.

“I did not forget,” he protests, staggering to the bathroom to brush his teeth and spray on deodorant. “My bed just won out over the alarm.”

At least she seems to like his updated map of the county, still pinned above his couch. She’s looking it over when Staci emerges from his bedroom after pulling on some clothes and wrangling his hair into an acceptable state.

“I’ve just been making notes on my laptop,” she says. “This is better. But Mike would only give me shit if I did this at home.”

Mike is Joey’s boyfriend. They’ve been together around six months, and Staci doesn’t like the guy much. He isn’t necessarily _bad_ , but he’s nowhere near good enough for Joey. It astounds him that someone as headstrong as her puts up with such an ineffectual partner.

“It’s your house, not his,” he mumbles, checking his reflection in the mirror on his bookshelf. He could do with a shave before work.

She ignores him. “Time to get moving, pretty boy.”

“Can I at least eat my breakfast first?”

“Eat it in the car. Now scoot.”

-

Staci scans the vehicles parked on the field at the edge of Joseph’s land as Joey eases her car into a space. It occurred to him on the way that Jacob may be here, but he can’t see the Jeep anywhere. On second thought, singing _Kum ba yah_ with the hippies doesn’t really seem like Jacob’s scene. He does notice a familiar turquoise truck parked nearby, however, and he stifles a groan. It’s Mark fucking Barnes’ truck. He _knew_ coming here was a bad idea. He would tell Joey so, but mentioning Mark will only get him a lecture on the consequences of bad decisions. And besides, maybe he’ll be lucky and Mark isn’t even here. His wife Tammy could be using the truck.

Joey pops her door open and looks at him expectantly.

“Let me finish my coffee,” he complains.

“You’re not finished yet?”

“If you didn’t drive like a maniac, I would have.” He almost dropped his breakfast wrap in his lap twice on the way.

“So bring it with you.”

“No! These people are all eco-freaks. They might lynch me for using a paper cup.”

He stubbornly makes her wait while he sips the rest of his drink, squinting out at the huge tent set up further down the field. He forgot to pick up his sunglasses in the rush. It’s the last day of June and the sky is a perfect, cloudless blue. The grass is still lush and even muddy in some areas, but it likely won’t rain again for a few weeks. Despite his grouchy mood, Staci feels a thrill at the thought of summer stretching ahead. Days like this make him want to climb and swim and fish.

Joey has one of Mike’s ball caps in the car, so Staci borrows it to keep the sun out of his eyes. The two of them stroll down the field towards the lake shore. The marquee is set up for Joseph’s sermon, flaps along one full side rolled up to allow the congregation to spill out onto the grass outside. There are rows of seats inside, many already occupied, facing a low platform in the centre with speakers and a microphone stand. Colourful rugs and blankets are spread on the ground to accommodate more attendees.

Beyond the tent is Joseph’s camp and the construction site for his chapel. It’s too soon to tell what the building will be like, but the camp is a quirky little village of trailers, campers and even tents in a patchwork of styles. Every gap is filled with something bright and cheerful; laundry, flags and bunting dancing in the breeze. Staci spots the obligatory VW camper parked up, psychedelic flowers painted on the side. He rolls his eyes particularly hard at the full-sized teepee set up at the edge of the camp. Cultural appropriation aside, the commune looks kind of charming. Most surprising is how open everything is. There’s a tall mesh fence at the treeline around the property that goes all the way to the road, but it isn’t as closed off as the convent or St Francis Veteran Centre.

Joey tugs on Staci’s arm to draw him into the tent, where they manage to find two free seats near the back. Around the marquee’s ceiling are garlands of plastic flowers, strings of lights and paper decorations that look like they were made by children. It reminds Staci of his younger sisters’ bedroom when they were growing up. Looking around, he sees familiar faces mixed in with the strangers. Around two-thirds of the crowd are women, but there are men and children of all ages here too.

Jacob is nowhere to be seen. Staci insists to himself that it’s a good thing. However, just before the service is due to get started, John Seed arrives. Even on a hot weekend he’s immaculately dressed in a dusky blue shirt, grey vest and jeans that probably cost more than Staci’s car. His sleeves are rolled to the elbows, and Staci is shocked to see that both forearms are covered in tattoos. He goes to sit by the edge of the little stage.

“That fucker,” Joey mutters, leaning in at Staci’s side. “I’ll bet he just got done showing Ash his ‘plane’ again.”

Ash has kept a tight lid on the details, but the other two know that he called on John Seed at least twice in the last week. First to go and make his own apology, as instructed by the Sheriff, which—as Ash tells it—led to them ‘just talking’ for several hours. He confessed after pressure from his colleagues that John then invited him back a few days later to show off his airplane, and while Pratt and Hudson were certain that the two must have started fucking after that, Ash continued to insist that nothing has happened between them. Staci doesn’t know what to believe, but despite Trevor’s refusal to dish the dirt, it’s clear he is utterly smitten with John.

“Ash was working last night.”

“Like that’d stop him.”

John idly scans the crowd, face blank, but when he spots Joey and Staci he immediately perks up. Smiling, he slides his phone out of his vest and starts tapping away at it. Probably texting Ash to express his surprise.

“Oh, great,” Staci grunts.

After a few minutes, a woman enters the tent and goes to stand on the little raised platform. The swell of a pregnant belly shows under her flowing shirt. She turns on the microphone and smiles broadly at the crowd gathered.

“Good morning, everyone! Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

She gets a smattering of whoops and greetings back from the audience. She looks around Joey’s age, maybe a little older, and she has a wise, warm face framed by long dark curls.

“I see even more new faces today! Wave your hands if this is your first time!”

Both Staci and Joey sink a little lower in their seats in shared dread.

“Welcome, all of you. And to those returning, how wonderful to have you back here again. I promise we’ll get started very soon, but before Joseph comes out, one of our beloved sisters would like to share some music with you. Please give a warm welcome to our very own Faith!”

Staci meets Joey’s eye as the crowd applauds.

The pregnant woman spreads out both arms as a younger woman approaches. Faith is barefoot and fair, dressed in a lace sun dress and carrying an acoustic guitar. She smiles and kisses the other woman’s cheek as she takes the stage. She adjusts the microphone stand while John brings her a stool. Her hair falls across her face as she sits down and readies the guitar in her lap. The crowd hushes as she starts to play.

Staci doesn’t think he could stomach the second-hand embarrassment if Faith sucked, but to his relief she’s actually very good. Her voice is sweet and light; the song she sings is something pretty about bliss and being set free. She starts off with her eyes closed, but as she warms into the performance, she opens them and smiles at the audience. That’s when Staci recognises her. It takes him a minute or two of her song before he can match a name to her face.

He leans close to Joey and hisses to her, “Holy shit, that’s Rachel Jessop.”

“You’re kidding?”

Someone in front turns round to glare at them to keep quiet.

“Well, that solves one mystery,” Joey whispers.

Staci joins the applause when Rachel/Faith finishes. She smiles again and thanks everyone before vanishing once more with her guitar. The pregnant lady comes back to announce the main event: Joseph.

Staci isn’t sure what he expected. He has only seen Joseph Seed once, at a distance, and nothing particularly stood out beyond the beard and long hair. Perhaps the glimpses of the camp should have prepared him, but Staci is _not_ prepared for the apparition that takes the stage before him now. Each of the Seed brothers has his own distinctive style: John’s is expensive tailoring, while Jacob opts for the comfort and familiarity of army surplus. Joseph Seed seems to have achieved his look by dressing in a darkened thrift store. He steps onto the platform in cargo shorts, yellow-tinted sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt emblazoned with a hot pink and orange pineapple print. Flip flops slap on his feet.

To round off the outfit, he carries a tiny baby goat under one arm.

Joseph stops to kiss the pregnant woman—his wife, Staci assumes from the familiarity in their exchange—and pass her the goat, which wriggles and bleats in her embrace as she carries it away.

“Thank you for your patience, my dear family,” he says, holding out both arms to the congregation. His unbuttoned shirt parts to reveal a tattooed chest and stomach. “And extra thanks to Faith for sharing her beautiful gift with us.” He claps his hands together in front of his heart. “What gifts this day brings us! Be assured, it is no mistake that we’re all here together. We’re brought here by a shared purpose. Let’s share a moment’s silence to feel out what today's message is.”

Joseph extends his hands again, palms forward now as though he is feeling for something. His eyes close behind the tinted lenses. Everyone present, even the kids, falls obediently quiet. Staci glances at Joey, but she is giving Joseph her full, frowning attention.

An older lady sitting behind them leans toward her neighbour and whispers, just loud enough for Staci to hear. “He never decides in advance what he’s going to talk about,” she explains. “He only comes up with it once he gets here.”

On cue, Joseph sighs out a breath and opens his eyes.

“Today… I think we’ll talk about something that's very familiar to every single one of us. Let’s talk about the deadliest of all the deadly sins.” He turns and scans the congregation, and Staci could swear there’s a moment when his eyes snag on him and Joey.

“Let’s talk about _wrath_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the baby goat goes to @dutchisland on tumblr for suggesting it. It was the final accessory I never knew Joseph needed.


	9. Chapter 9

Joseph’s sermon draws from a myriad of sources. He quotes from the Bible, Quran, Vedas, Buddhist sutras and more that Staci can’t keep track of, dipping into a seemingly endless store of memorised scripture and verse before veering off to reference pop culture.

His overall message is pretty simple: anger is natural, neither good nor bad, but it needs to be taken care of before it becomes toxic. And yet Joseph makes it feel deeper and wiser than that. He’s totally engaging as he talks, fun and frivolous one minute and intense the next, and over the forty or so minutes that he speaks he coaxes laughter, tears and sighs from the crowd. Even Staci, determined to remain a neutral observer, finds himself nodding along a couple of times.

It’s easy to see why he’s built himself a following so quickly. As for his motives, it’s impossible to say. He speaks with such conviction it’s hard to imagine he doesn’t believe every word. And there’s no talk of righteous judgement or the kind of fear-mongering Staci would have expected from a doomsday cult. Joseph’s words are optimistic ones of love and decency. Even so, Staci is wary of dismissing Joey’s suspicions. For all he knows Joseph Seed could still be planning to trick the people of Hope County out of their life savings, or lead them to the gates of heaven in an apocalyptic blaze.

There are cheers and applause once he finishes speaking. Staci and Joey shuffle to the exit with the rest of the crowd.

“So, what’d you make of that?” he asks, but when he looks she’s no longer beside him.

He turns to see her standing at the opening of the tent, arms folded. She’s watching Joseph as he speaks with a huddle of admirers by the stage.

Staci backtracks to her. “Are we gonna go?”

“Not yet,” she says. “I want to talk to him.”

Before Staci can protest she’s ducked back inside. He sighs and checks the time on his phone. It’s only eleven, so he has plenty of time to catch up on sleep, but he’d rather get home soon. He’s stuck here until Joey finishes her Nancy Drew shit, though. He considers following her just in case things get heated, but then he catches sight of Rachel Jessop crossing the grass towards the camp, and figures he may as well do some investigation of his own.

“Hey,” he says, jogging to catch up with her. “It’s… You’re Rachel, right?”

“Not any more,” she starts, but her expression changes to curiosity as she scans Staci’s face. She stops walking. “I know you, don’t I?”

“Yeah, maybe. I’m Bobbi Pratt’s brother. Staci. I went to Emery, too.”

“Oh! That’s right!” She smiles brightly. “Staci! How are you? Oh my gosh, I heard you were a Deputy Sheriff now. That’s amazing.”

“Well, it’s… something, I guess. So how are things with you? I thought you sounded great earlier.”

Rachel beams. “Thank you! I still get nervous sometimes, even though everyone here is so kind.”

“Yeah, it seems like a nice place. So do you, like, live here now?”

“Mostly, yeah. Officially I’m still at my parents’ old place, but this feels more like home.” She points to the floral VW camper. “That’s mine! Isn’t it cute?”

“Sure is. And uh, I apologise. For calling you the wrong name just now.”

“No, it’s all right,” she says. “Everyone around here knows who I used to be, and if they don’t then I’m sure it’ll get out soon enough. You know how Hope is for gossip. I didn’t change my name to hide. I did it for myself, to reflect who I am now.”

“I thought maybe you’d been adopted,” Staci jokes.

Rachel—or Faith, he should try to think of her as that—laughs. “I guess I was, in a way. Joseph and Louise are like family. More so than mine ever were. Sometimes you need to just… break all ties to the past. You know?”

Staci nods, although he can’t really understand. His family drives him crazy but they all love each other. Even through his parents’ divorce, that was always made absolutely clear.

“Most people assume I’ve gotten married,” Faith confides. “One or two have even told me they thought I was one of Joseph’s _sister wives_ , or something.” She grins, crinkling her nose at how ridiculous the thought is.

Staci laughs weakly. He hopes Joey isn’t grilling Joseph on the subject as they speak. “You mean it’s not true? Damn, I only agreed to come along for the polygamy.”

Faith laughs, bright and clear like a bell. She seems genuinely happy. There are old scars on her bare arms, a series of pearly pink lines against her tan, but like her birth name they seem to belong to her former self.

She asks about Staci’s family. She remembers some of Bobbi’s more dramatic moments, but she speaks of his sister with fondness. Staci ventures to ask about her farm by the Henbane. Faith’s eyes light up as she tells him about all the flowers she plans to grow in the new greenhouses. He’s about to ask what they need so many flowers for when he remembers that Joey will be waiting for him.

“Sorry, I ought to go find my friend. She’s my ride home.”

“Of course. It was so nice to see you, Staci. Come back any time.”

He bids her goodbye and heads back to the meeting tent. There’s no sign of Joey or Joseph inside now, so he assumes she’s waiting at the car. But when he reaches it, it’s empty.

“Fuck.” He doesn’t relish searching the whole camp, so he gets out his phone to call her.

“Staci?”

He looks up, and immediately wishes he hadn’t. Mark fucking Barnes is sidling up to him.

“Hey, Stace,” Mark says, smiling fondly and clearly oblivious to the dismay on Staci’s face. “I didn’t know you were here. First time?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“So what did you think? Joseph’s pretty amazing, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he’s swell.” He looks around for someone who can rescue him. Where the fuck is Joey?

At the same time, Mark steps closer. He’s shaved off the sides of his beard since Staci last saw him, and he looks like a douche. He’s wearing a cap with the National Park Service logo on the front and an ugly bowling shirt.

“It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Staci pointedly refuses to meet his eye, swiping through his phone to Joey’s number. “I’m awesome, how’s your wife?”

Mark ignores Staci’s open hostility and chuckles as though he was flirting. He leans against Joey’s car. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Gimme a fucking break.” Staci sidesteps out of reach and holds the phone to his ear.

“Listen, I’m gonna be stationed up at Taft lookout for the next couple weeks,” Mark says. He intends the tone of his voice to be seductive, but it turns Staci’s stomach. “Probably on my own for most of it. You know, if you feel like… hanging out.”

Joey isn’t picking up her phone. Staci scans the field again in desperation. At this rate he’ll have to either pounce on a total stranger or kick Mark’s ass, and either option could backfire in numerous ways.

Then, suddenly, salvation appears. A beacon. Jacob Seed, all six-foot-something of him, hair bright and coppery in the sun as he strides away from his Jeep. His dog paces at his side.

The faint alarm bells in the back of Staci’s mind are drowned out by his need to get the fuck away from Mark, so without hesitation he waves a hand above his head and shouts.

“Jacob, hey!” he calls. “Just the man I wanted to see!”

Jacob stops and scans around with a frown, squinting in the sunlight. He freezes when he sees Staci hurrying towards him with great purpose.

“Pratt?”

He looks just as confused as Staci would expect, so after making a show of smiling and slapping Jacob’s arm in friendly greeting, he lowers his voice.

“I’m sorry, can you please just help me out,” he babbles. “Pretend we have stuff to talk about? I need to escape a situation and I’d rather do it without violence.”

He watches Jacob’s gaze move past him and then back. “Who, the turkey in the hat?”

“Yeah.” By his side, Judge steps closer and gives Staci’s hand an inquisitive sniff. His nose is cool and wet.

“This the trouble John told me about?” Jacob asks.

“What? No. But can we like, walk away now? Pretend we have to be somewhere?”

Jacob eyes him for a moment longer before turning towards the marquee. God, he’s tall.

“Fine,” he says. “I have to find my brother.”

“Okay. Great. He was in the tent earlier.”

Staci stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets and stalks towards the tent with Jacob at his side.

“So who’s the guy?”

“Mark fucking Barnes,” Staci grumbles. “Has he gone?”

There’s a pause while Jacob checks over his shoulder. “Yeah. What’s his problem?”

“His entire personality?” Staci replies. “It’s… complicated.”

Jacob is watching him through narrowed eyes, but he looks away when Staci glances at him.

“He your ex or something?” Jacob’s voice sounds a little tight. That tone reminds Staci of his dad, who has done his best to be accepting of his son’s sexuality, but given the choice would gratefully never hear it mentioned ever again.

“No,” he replies. He still can’t figure out what Jacob thinks of him, but he wants his reputation to be better than that. “God, no.”

They reach the tent, but it’s clear at a glance that neither Seed brother is there. Joey is still nowhere to be seen.

“What are you doing here, Pratt?” Jacob asks casually, but of course Staci’s presence must have been a red flag after his previous forays onto Seed family property.

“I came with Hudson. We’re trying to… y’know. Build connections with the community. After those other, uh, incidents.”

Jacob isn’t buying it. “That right?” he replies. “So how come John messaged me less than an hour ago saying there was trouble going down?”

“I have no idea.” Staci pictures John smirking and pulling out his phone when he’d spotted the two deputies earlier. He hadn’t been texting Ash at all. Son of a bitch. “But clearly he trusts us about as much as you do.”

Jacob just frowns and takes his phone from his pocket. They’re standing in the shade of the tent, so Staci takes off the hat he borrowed from Joey and runs a hand through his hair. He should try to call her again.

Jacob speaks gruffly when his brother picks up. “JJ, what the hell am I doing here?”

He stalks away from Staci for privacy, one hand propped on his hip, scowling out across the camp. Joey still isn’t answering, so Staci just loiters and watches Jacob from the corner of his eye. Now that the emergency of getting away from Mark Barnes has passed, there’s nothing to distract him from remembering every lurid thought he’s had about Jacob over the last few days. Even the man’s grizzly attitude doesn’t counter it, because he’s just as surly and rough-mannered in Staci’s fantasies. Only there he’s passionate, too. With an unmistakable fire in his eyes.

Staci fans himself with his hat. This is really not an ideal time to be dwelling on Jacob’s eyes, or how great his thighs look in his jeans, or how handsome he is in profile. Because outside of Staci’s imagination, Jacob Seed has never given any suggestion that he’s interested in Staci that way. Thinking about him is only going to end up hurting. It already does a little, though for now it’s just the pang of desire.

Jacob finishes his call and glares at the screen of his phone for a second before slotting it into his back pocket. Judge keeps eyes on his master at all times, and now he bumps his black snout against Jacob’s hand. He gets his ears scratched affectionately in return.

“Everything okay?” Staci asks.

“Yeah,” Jacob replies. He isn’t thrilled with whatever wild goose chase John has sent him on. “Trouble’s dealt with.”

“I don’t suppose he mentioned if he’s seen Hudson?”

Jacob shakes his head. “He left already. Already on his way home to primp for some date.”

“Huh.” Staci will have to grill Ash later about said date. That’s assuming it _is_ a date with Ash. If not, he’ll hunt John down himself and rip his arms off.

Jacob looks awkward, and Staci can tell he’s about to make his excuses and leave. He doesn’t want him to, not yet.

“Well, I’m glad you arrived when you did,” he says. “For the diversion.”

Jacob shrugs. “Guess I owed you one.”

“For what?”

“For last weekend.” He watches Staci, waiting for him to fill in the gaps. “You helped make my charges a little less messy.”

Fuck, he’s talking about the knife. The knife still sitting in Staci’s glovebox.

“That’s not—I didn’t,” Staci fumbles.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell tales,” Jacob replies. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I would have got off anyway, y’know. Even if you’d handed it in. John’s got a way with these things.”

“Whatever. That’s not why. I didn’t do it to help you.”

“Just slipped your mind?”

“It was—I didn’t actually think you would have used it, okay? I figured it wasn’t relevant.”

“Whatever you say,” Jacob says. “Almost sounds as though you _do_ trust me.”

Staci huffs. “Only to not stab someone in public. Don’t get excited.”

Jacob smiles then, like he can’t help it. Like he’s genuinely amused by Staci’s bullshit. And God, it makes warmth flower in Staci’s chest. He has to fight his own smile and grapple around for all the reasons he shouldn’t be drawn to Jacob Seed.

“I’m gonna call on Joseph since I’m here,” Jacob says, gesturing vaguely.

It’s not an invitation, but he doesn’t object when Staci falls into pace beside him.

“So how come Joseph has a goat?” Staci asks. “Isn’t he vegan?”

“A what? Goat?”

“Yeah. Earlier, before he did his talk. He had a baby goat under his arm.”

Jacob just sighs. “I don’t understand most of the things my brother does.”

He heads around to the back of the marquee and Staci follows. There’s a large round tent set up on a wooden deck, surrounded by flowers and fruit trees growing in pots. It’s more like a hut, with a wooden door and real windows. A _yurt_ , Staci thinks. There’s a yurt camping place in the next county that costs as much as Staci’s monthly rent for a weekend stay. It looks like somewhere a yuppie hobbit would live.

As they approach, the door flies open and Joey Hudson storms out with a face like a thundercloud. Her eyes are wild and furious, shoulders shaking as she breathes, and when her eyes latch onto Staci’s there’s a moment when he’s not even sure she recognises him. Then she snatches his arm and starts to drag him away.

“We’re getting the fuck out of here. _Now_.”

Staci only gets the briefest glimpse inside the yurt before he’s yanked along behind Joey. Joseph is sitting on the floor looking stunned. His wife is on her feet, one hand pressed to her belly and the other hovering over her mouth.

And stuck in the middle is Jacob, standing by the open door and staring after Joey and Staci with a glare on his face that suggests their trouble is far from dealt with.

-

“Will you please tell me what happened?”

Joey ignores him and jams her foot a little harder on the accelerator. Staci hoped she might ease off the gas once they were off the island, but whatever has her so worked up just keeps on pushing.

“ _Jo_ _ey_. For fuck’s sake, you’re scaring me. Slow down.”

They’re already approaching the turn off for the bridge to Holland Valley. Ahead of them a freight truck eases onto the highway from a side road. If Joey were driving at normal speed, the driver would have plenty of time for the manoeuvre before she caught up, but since she’s not, she catches him too soon. She swerves and accelerates blindly past the truck, blaring her horn the whole time. It’s pure luck that nothing is heading the other way. Staci’s fingers dig into the plastic coating on the dash as he clings to it for dear life.

“Jo,” he chokes out. He sounds like a frightened child. “I really don’t want to fucking die today.”

Either he finally gets through to her or something else does, because she suddenly swings the steering wheel and pulls over onto the grass verge. Staci’s seatbelt bites into his collarbone as she brakes. The truck goes steaming past them with an aggressive blast of its horn.

Joey doesn’t move or speak for a while. She’s frozen with one hand on the wheel, the other still on her keys in the ignition. Pratt wonders whether he should just get out and walk. They can’t be more than two miles from the trailer park. The walk would give him time to work off his tension before going back to bed for the afternoon. But pissed as he is, he can’t leave Joey like this.

Wary that he may get punched for it, he reaches across and puts a hand on her forearm. She just blinks and looks down at his hand, then at him, as though snapping out of a daydream.

Joey seems to deflate, shoulders sinking as her tension fades. She pushes her sunglasses up onto her head and rubs at her eyes.

“Sorry,” she says. “I’m okay.”

He bites his tongue from snapping at her, _Well we almost_ _fucking_ _weren’t_. They’re safe now. That’s what matters.

“I should drop you off,” she says, and that’s when Staci notices that her hands are shaking. Not just a little; they’re trembling, practically bouncing on the end of her arms.

“Hey.” Staci takes her nearest hand in his. “No rush. Let’s just chill for a minute.”

There’s only one thing he can think of that would set her off like this. The grief she has been fighting for too long. It’s a screaming black void covered over with plywood and cheap carpet. Any day now it will fail to take her weight and give way beneath her. But as Staci watches her now, feeling the rabbit-heart pulse racing under her skin, it dawns on him that this goes beyond the word _grief_. It goes beyond _perfectly natural_ and _time_ and _healing_. Joey didn’t always drive too fast. She didn’t always need so much coffee to get her started in the mornings, or as many beers to unwind her at night. And while Staci has always known her to be a smart, brilliant cop, she hasn’t always been so unrelenting—bordering on obsessive—in her pursuit of justice as she has been with the Seeds.

Staci told John days ago that he knew a little about PTSD, but clearly not enough to spot it right under his fucking nose, claws hooked deep into his best friend. He squeezes her hand harder, hating himself for his blindness.

“Do you wanna tell me about it?”

She doesn’t answer for a long time, and Staci assumes she isn’t going to. Gives her her hand back so it doesn’t get weird. He looks out at the river below where it fattens out and feeds into Silver Lake.

“He said...” Joey scowls, twisting her mouth this way and that as she chews over words. It’s not like her to hesitate. “That I’m angry.”

Staci waits. He isn’t even certain which ‘he’ she means, though he assumes it’s Joseph.

“He said it helped me to survive,” she goes on. Her voice sounds numb. “But now it’s making me sick. He put his hands... on my head. Said he could feel it.” She swallows, staring out through the wind shield. “My _wrath_. Said he could feel it even before his sermon. That’s why he decided to preach about it.”

Staci just listens, even breathes as softly as possible until she’s ready to go on.

“I thought I’d just go along with his shit,” she says. “It’d be easier to ask my questions if I did, y’know? But then he said… He started...” She breaks off and shakes her head, brows drawn down and a bitter grimace on her face. “Stace, he fucking knew all about it.”

“About Danny?” he ventures.

Joey flinches a tiny bit when she hears his name. Nods. “Knew I was there when... it happened. Knew I tried to save him. He knew we were…” She sounds choked and sort of nasal, like she’s starting with a cold. “I don’t know what happened. I guess I freaked out.”

“Fuck,” Staci exhales. “I’m sorry, Jo. He’s got no right to talk about your business.”

“These assholes roll into our town, our county,” she says. “And it’s not enough that they buy up half our land and start preaching like a bunch of White missionaries here to fucking _civilise_ us… Then they dig up personal shit on us, too? Act like they know who we _are_ , what we’ve _lost_? How fucking _dare_ they?” She slaps angrily at her eyes. Joey hates to cry. “And then he had the goddamn nerve to talk about my anger, that it’s like a… Like an _atom bom_ _b?_ Well yeah, fucking right it is. Only he’s the one trying to set it off.”

Pratt hates seeing her like this. The fact that Joseph’s words have a ring of truth is irrelevant. Of course Joey Hudson is angry, at both at herself and the whole damn world for taking her partner, her _fiancé_ , and snuffing him out right before her eyes. She’s tougher than Staci will ever be, and she has tried for the past year to bear the burden of all that pain. She’s done it bravely, and most of all, privately. It isn’t Joseph Seed’s place to poke at her wounds or even to acknowledge them. Turning up to one sermon doesn’t make him her preacher. It certainly doesn’t make him her friend.

Staci keeps his eyes forward but reaches over and squeezes her shoulder. They’re quiet for a while longer, giving Joey time to get her game face back on. Then she lowers her sunglasses, fires up the engine, and drives him home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staci is pining, and... yup that's about it.

Once Joey drops him off, Staci feels a loneliness seep into him that he hasn’t felt in a long time. A number of things contribute to it. Joey withdrawing into herself, for one, though she insists she’s fine when he texts her to check she got home in one piece. Running into Mark fucking Barnes, which only reminds Staci of how badly he’s dealt with his loneliness in the past, letting a married man he was only semi-attracted to in the first place fuck him as a temporary diversion. Even Joseph’s camp itself, packed tight with loved-up, smiling free spirits, cooking and building and praying together like one big family.

And, of course, seeing Jacob.

Pratt spends too much time going over the encounter in his mind, interpreting and reinterpreting Jacob’s every word and gesture. Sometimes hopefully—he asked if Mark was his ex, right? That could mean he’s interested, _right?_ And he made sure to acknowledge that he was returning the favour Staci had done for him, and then that fucking _smile_ … 

Plus there’s the nagging impression that John Seed is trying to push the two of them together, not just by luring Jacob out to the camp so they could run into each other, but the way he’d hinted last week about Staci’s opinion of Jacob being important.

He’ll work himself up like this and then something will flip and all his conclusions become gloomily pessimistic again. Jacob is closed off and hard to read. There’s nothing to suggest he really likes Staci; he’s already admitted that the one time he was nice to him was only because John told him to be. And maybe John did think the deputies were at the sermon to cause trouble. After the way Joey tore off, he may not be completely wrong.

Last but not least, he has no evidence that Jacob is into guys. Probability is against him. So are the results of Staci’s usually adequate gaydar, which resolutely refuses to get a _ping_ from Jacob. The man may light up all his other senses, but not that one.

And on and on and on Pratt’s thoughts tumble. God, he hates this.

He can’t fall asleep with his mind in overdrive, so he fills the loneliness by calling his sisters and his mom, letting them chatter endlessly in his ear as he sprawls under his juddering AC unit with his phone propped between his bare shoulder and ear. Doesn’t even roll his eyes when his mom talks him through the minutiae of her sister’s latest hospital visit, or corrects his Spanish when he does manage to get a word in. Lets Jen, his older sister, put the kids on the phone to rattle on about school and play, particularly Summer, who is keen to get her uncle on side against her parents’ barbaric regime that only allows her to use the iPad for _one hour a day_ on school nights.

It helps, but his trailer is still as empty after he hangs up.

His bed is still empty.

-

On Monday, the Sheriff calls Pratt into his office to ask about Hudson’s behaviour.

Staci is hesitant to betray Joey’s privacy. But once Earl shares his own concerns, Staci decides to confide his fears. He tells Earl about the car journey on Saturday. Earl nods along sadly, as though he was afraid it would come to this.

“Would’ve been their wedding next month,” he says, pivoting his chair to look at the photo on his wall of the two together, Hudson and Youngblood, smiling arm-in-arm outside the station with then-Junior Deputy Pratt beside them. “I have a feeling she’s only gonna get worse before she gets better.”

Danny’s murder tore through everyone in the Sheriff’s Department and shook the whole county, but none more than Joey. Not only was she closest to him, but she watched him get shot. His blood soaked her clothes as he went cold in her arms and his killers drove off into freedom. Something like that must have broken more than just her heart. She went along for mandatory counselling like they all did, and convinced those around her, maybe even herself, that she was on the mend. Until recently. Staci read up a little on PTSD over the weekend, in the lulls of his night shift. Learned more about triggers and the dissociation that comes with flashbacks. It made him wonder if Joey was even in the car with him when she almost drove them into the side of a truck. Perhaps she was somewhere else entirely in her own head, speeding along a different road in pursuit of an enemy that she will never catch.

Whitehorse calls her in to talk the next morning. Staci is at home, gearing up for a run of yet more night shifts, but when he arrives at the station that evening he learns that Joey is taking a month’s compassionate leave. What surprises him the most is that she didn’t fight it.

He messages her guiltily, certain she will have joined the dots between Earl’s fatherly concern and Staci telling tales.

_Hey J <3_  
Heard you’re taking time off. Miss you fam.  
Let me know if you need anything _at all_ _, OK? Xxx_

He braces himself for her wrath. She doesn’t reply for an hour or so, and he wonders if this is his punishment: the silent treatment. He doesn’t regret what he did, but he hates to think of causing her any more pain. At long last his phone buzzes with a response.

_I’m fine. Going to my folks in Missoula._

It’s blunt even for Joey, but he’s relieved to hear from her. Time away seems sensible. Better than seeing her would-be wedding day pass in Hope, with bitter reminders on every corner. Smarter than staying home with Mike, the boyfriend who’s never been more than a band-aid over the gaping injury of her loss. A protective layer Joey placed between herself and the grief.

Staci tells her to take care, give his love to her mom and dad, and call him any time she wants.

-

It’s even lonelier without her around. Working night shifts means he hardly sees Ash either. He does meet him coming in on Tuesday morning, though, and notices how exhausted Ash looks. Worn out but in a euphoric daze, which can only mean he’s been getting laid.

After some needling, Ash folds and admits he spent the night at John’s ranch.

“I _knew_ it,” Staci gloats. “ _Just talking_ , my ass. John’s been looking at you like you were a three-course dinner from day one.”

“Hey, I wasn’t lying,” Ash protests. “We _did_ only talk those times. Things only changed… this weekend.”

Staci shakes his head. “Listen, dude, I’m not gonna judge what you do and who you do it to.”

“Won’t you? Everyone else does.” He frowns and stalks through to the kitchen. Staci follows. It takes a little more prodding for Ash to open up. “It’s just… I thought you’d understand, Pratt. You know what it’s like in a small town. Everyone already knows your business, and when you’re queer you stand out even more. And people assume all we care about is sex. They forget we want to feel a connection, just like anybody else.”

Staci sighs. “Man, I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel bad, okay? And I hear what you’re saying, I do. People think that two guys together must be just… dick, twenty-four seven.”

“Exactly,” Ash replies, palpable relief in his voice. His uniform shirt pulls tight as he shrugs his huge shoulders. “And I know you and Joey didn’t mean anything by it. But this is different. _John’s_ different. Everyone thinks he’s some rich fuckboy, but he isn’t like that at all.”

Ash gazes off over Staci’s shoulder with a look in his eyes so full of excitement and hope and fear that Staci almost feels sorry for him. He envies him, too. Because he’s in a lonely and sour mood, he doesn’t particularly feel like hearing the details of other people’s romance, but he can tell Ash is bursting to talk to someone. As his only gay friend in a near radius, Pratt is the obvious choice. So he lets Ash tell him what the _real_ John is like.

Some of it is what he expected: educated, razor-sharp, talkative, and kind of a show-off. But Ash describes John’s other side too; he is nervous, idealistic and romantic. An odd mixture of forward and coy.

“When I went over that second time, it’s like he was the one trying to impress me, even though I was there to apologise to him. After a while I guess he realised he didn’t need to try so hard, and he relaxed. And we just clicked so well. We talked for hours. It was the same when I went back.”

“So when you said he let you ride in his plane, he literally was just letting you ride in his plane, huh?”

Ash laughs and flusters. “Yeah. That was when he… told me he was attracted to me. Just came out with it, kinda matter of fact, but nervous too. And I said I felt the same. But he wouldn’t do anything about it until we’d been on our first date.”

The date was on Saturday. John rushing off after Joseph’s sermon to get ready was genuine. They went to Whitefish, free from the prying eyes of Hope County gossips, and took a boat out on the lake followed by dinner in the best restaurant in town.

“It’s funny. He’s a total gentleman, you know? I’ve never been treated so nice. But then he’s also...”

From the fact that Ash’s brown skin reddens, Staci assumes his mind is on bedroom activities. He smirks at Ash. He can’t pretend he isn’t curious.

“What? Gentleman in the streets, beast in the sheets?”

Ash just moves his mouth wordlessly, takes a sip of his too-hot coffee to occupy it, and sputters as he burns his tongue. Once he’s recovered, he looks sheepishly at Pratt and nods.

“He’s… _wild_ , man.”

Staci narrows his eyes. “Top or bottom?”

Ash stares off into space again looking both dreamy and flustered. “ _Everything_.”

“Okay, God, _stop_ ,” Pratt groans. “I’m too single to listen to this shit.”

“Hey, you asked.”

“Mm. And I’d ask if he had a brother, but unfortunately I already know the answer to that.”

Ash smiles into his cup. “Well, Jacob’s single.”

Staci just scoffs, praying he isn’t blushing too. “Yeah, can’t imagine why.”

He is gripped by a sudden urge to ask if John has mentioned Jacob’s sexuality. But no matter how casually he were to phrase it, Ash would figure out that he’d been right all along and Staci really _does_ have a dumb stupid crush on Jacob. That by itself Pratt could bear, but if Ash is already this loved-up then it would be sure to get back to John, and from there to Jacob, and… That’s simply not gonna happen.

Nope.

-

Back home he stands in his living room eating cereal—even on nights, he can’t make himself eat dinner in the morning, it just doesn’t feel right—and feeling sorry for himself again. At least there are social events coming up to keep him occupied. He’s working the night of July Fourth, but the big celebration will be that weekend at the Ryes’ place. The reason Staci is cramming in all these night shifts is so he has the weekend free to party. And he has climbs planned with Grace and Eli soon, and the music festival, and family stuff.

He’s only staring at the map on the wall because it’s right in front of his face, but as he chews and casts his eyes over the familiar lines and ridges of Hope County, a nasty suspicion begins to creep over him. He hung that map in the first place because he, Hudson and Ash made their pact to do what was needed to dig up dirt on the Seeds. And now, only a couple weeks later, two out of the three deputies are occupied elsewhere. How convenient. Ash’s distraction is, of course, directly linked to John. And Joey’s absence came right after she went to see Joseph. Staci doesn’t know what she said to him, but knowing Joey it could have involved some difficult questions.

Staci’s first instinct is to dismiss the thought as paranoia, but should he?

He frowns, sucking on the spoon in his mouth. He must be wrong. It was Earl who suggested Joey’s leave. He’s only got their best interests at heart. But what if John or Joseph had words with him first? After all, Earl only cracked down on their investigations after his little private meeting with John. Could they be pulling Earl’s strings without him realising it?

And what about Staci? Maybe they assume he’s already in their pocket because he kept Jacob’s knife a secret. He slurps the last of the milk directly from his bowl and glares at the map. He doesn’t know what to believe, but he does know that if there’s even a slim chance the Seeds are up to no good, he can’t keep allowing himself to be distracted. He owes that much to Joey.

-

One potential solution to his distractions, if only a temporary one, would be to get laid. Take his mind off conspiracies and self-pity and his miserable crush on Jacob while perhaps even banging some sense into him.

He hasn’t gone looking in a while; hasn’t even opened the Grindr app in months. All those shots of buff shirtless guys with rockin’ abs make him feel scrawny and inadequate. He’s on his third night shift that week when he finally succumbs. But his jaw drops open in horror as he brings up his profile. He’d completely forgotten that he changed his profile picture the last time he was online.

His usual photo is a classy, black and white shot Joey took of him from behind, showing his bare neck and shoulders. His hair is loose and shiny and just the vague edge of his features visible where his face is turned to the side. Being in a law enforcement job, it’s common sense to avoid being recognised on dating sites, but Staci doesn’t feel his body is up to the obligatory torso shot. Joey suggested his hair would be a good feature to show off, and he went with it. It’s a nice picture. Different enough to stand out, with just the right degree of mystery.

Unfortunately, the shot he swapped it for in a bout of drunken horniness is anything but mysterious. At the time he was feeling frustrated and slutty, so he’d opted for what he’s been told is his other finest attribute: his ass. It’s a colour selfie of his behind, dressed only in tight-fitting boxers, with his right hand grabbing one pert cheek. At least it’s still anonymous. Staci cringes into his seat as he hurriedly deletes it and reverts to his default picture.

He has a ton of unread messages and he scans them quickly. Most are what he’d expect; uninspired takes on ‘dtf?’—some with explicit details of acts they may wish be perform upon his ass—and the occasional ‘hey’. No one’s message or picture interests him enough to take it further. He indulges in a moment’s pathetic hope that there might be one from Jacob, but of course there isn’t. He knows the chances of Jacob being A: gay, B: on Grindr, and C: specifically interested in Pratt’s rear end are infinitesimal. Not to mention that he would probably wither and die of shame if Jacob had seen his booty shot.

He deletes the messages one by one until his inbox is empty, then fiddles with his settings for a bit. Yes, maybe he opens up the age range a little higher than before; what of it? He sets his search to a decent radius that includes the bigger towns nearby; Whitefish, Columbia Falls, Kalispell. He half-heartedly flicks through a few profiles but no one comes even close to what he wants.

Mainly because what he wants right now is a tall, bearded army veteran with scars and an attitude problem. So far out of Staci’s age range he could be his father. Unpredictable and unstable. Laden with a whole lifetime of baggage that Staci wouldn’t even know how to begin unpacking.

But how he wants him, all the same.

He almost throws his phone across the room in a rage when he finds John’s profile.

The picture shows a man’s body from knees to chin, dressed in a razor-sharp three-piece suit. Posing like a model with one hand in his pants pocket and the other on the knot of his tie. His face is cut off, only his beard and lower lip visible, but he’s instantly recognisable as the youngest Seed. John describes himself as bisexual and versatile. Staci makes a noise of contempt. He already knows how _versatile_ he is thanks to Ash.

Sick of John, sick of himself, and most of all sick of his thoughts of Jacob, Staci logs off the app and tosses his phone in a drawer.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update took a while so HERE HAVE SIX THOUSAND WORDS instead of the usual 2 or 3k. 
> 
> Also please check out my side story, "Queer Eye (for a Seed Guy)" before reading this chapter if you want to see what Jacob was up to in the hours before the barbecue. It's Jacob's POV and takes place right before this chapter. 
> 
> Sorry if it's typo-riddled but I have to go to bed lol <3

At long last Saturday rolls around, and with it, one of the highlights of the Hope County summer calendar: the Ryes’ Open BBQ. Nick and Kim open up their house and grounds to anyone who wants to come along, provided they contribute food or drink of some kind. They usually throw the party in August, but as Kim is very pregnant and expecting the baby around then, they’ve moved it forward and decided to have an Independence Day theme for a change.

Staci arrives at noon to help them set up. Kim is banned from doing much in her current state, so she suns herself on a lounger with a cold drink and watches them work. This year Nick has gone all out on a fireworks display that he’s setting up on the roof of one of the aircraft hangars across the runway from the house. It must have cost a small fortune, but in return he and Kim will get to eat and drink for free for the rest of the summer. Besides, they won’t be doing much entertaining once Baby Rye comes along, so they may as well go out with a (literal) bang.

Pratt isn’t too keen on either climbing around on the roof or messing with anything explosive, so he moves furniture instead. Under Kim’s direction he sets up folding tables for the buffet in the hangar nearest the house, and brings out every chair the Ryes own, plus a couple dozen more folding seats they’ve borrowed from neighbours. He and Ash clubbed together on a keg of Leased lager which he’s already rolled into Nick’s little bar in the corner of the hangar. There’s more Leased and a keg of Whistling Beaver locked in the shed behind the house, but they’ll be saved for later in the evening when the serious drinking gets underway.

A few more folks turn up, Drew Fairgrave from the Spread Eagle (who brings with him an excellent selection of spirits) and some of Kim’s friends. Staci hooks up the sound system so they can play music while they work; Kim’s playlist for now, since Nick’s taste is too far into Dad territory and gets promptly vetoed by everyone present. There’s no real moment when the preparations end and the party begins; it just builds gradually as people trickle in and the offerings of food and booze pile up in the refrigerators. The folks with young families come early to make the most of the day, so there are soon children underfoot wherever Staci turns, including his niece and nephew once his sister Jen and her husband Paul arrive. Summer and Blue insist on trailing around after him and trying to climb on him whenever he stands still long enough. It’s a relief when Rae-Rae Bretzke and her son Ryan turn up with Boomer to distract them. Even Cool Uncle Staci can’t compete with a celebrity dog who performs tricks.

Eli rolls up around four-thirty. Kim sends him and Staci on a supply run for as much bagged ice as they can scrape together from the local stores and gas stations. She already cleared out the supermarket in Whitefish earlier in the week. Staci’s already had a few beers, so he chills in the passenger seat and lights up the joint Eli directs him to in the glovebox. They pass it back and forth and shoot the shit on the way from stop to stop until the back of Eli’s SUV is packed with sweating bags of ice. Staci checks his messages and sees that Grace is about to head down to the Ryes’, and there’s an earlier message from Ash saying he’s finally done with his shift and will be along as soon as he can with John.

Staci is already light-headed from the pot, and his stomach flips as he wonders if Jacob will make an appearance. But it seems like a long shot. He lives at the furthest point of the county, for starters, and then there’s his general mistrust of people. The incident with Sharky probably hasn’t made him any more inclined to be around crowds.

He and Eli agree to swing by Grace’s house and pick her up, so by the time they get back to the party it’s almost six. There are cars parked along Nick’s runway now, and Eli has to squeeze his SUV through the gap along the edge so they can unload the ice without trekking back and forth all night.

Nick is manning his gigantic grill. Pratt catches a whiff of sizzling meat and realises he’s starving. At least he’ll be fed first in return for his assistance. He gets a cold beer at the bar—Drew and Mary May have been roped into serving so it doesn’t descend into a chaotic free-for-all—and settles into a deck chair outside the hangar with a contented sigh. He scans around for familiar faces. Nick and Kim have a lot of land, so people are spread out all over, most out in the sunshine in chairs or sprawled on blankets and rugs. Others are running around after their kids or crowding into the hangar in search of booze and food.

Staci hasn’t seen John or Ash yet, but when he checked the long row of parked cars on his way past he spotted John’s convertible tucked between two dusty trucks. Jacob’s Jeep was nowhere to be seen. He’s irritated by his own disappointment. It’s not as though he has a shortage of entertaining friends and family to hang out with. And Jacob Seed is _not_ , he reminds himself for the hundred thousandth time, a viable option for romance, so even if that aspect of his life is sadly lacking, he should be glad Jacob isn’t here driving him to distraction.

It isn’t long before Nick hollers for him to come get fed. One of the great things about Hope County is the game, and a few of the attendees are hunters so there’s a mouth-watering selection of meats to choose from. He lets Nick load his plate with succulent cuts of venison, bison and elk as well as a turkey leg and some beef sausage.

Before he can head to the buffet table inside, Nick leans in and warns him, “Don’t touch the mac and cheese in the red dish.” He glances around. “It’s _vegan_.” He spits the last word as though it’s synonymous for _poisoned_.

Staci laughs. “Who brought it?”

“Joseph Seed and his wife. They brought a whole bunch of stuff. Most of it’s fine, but I’m just sayin’: vegan cheese is a sin against nature.”

“So the new preacher’s here, huh?”

Faith’s bright green camper van was impossible to miss amongst the other parked vehicles, and Staci has seen a few hippy-looking types in the crowd, so he’s not entirely shocked to learn that Joseph Seed is around.

“Yeah. He seems all right. I was expecting the next Charlie Manson from what some folks have been saying, but he just seems a little kooky. He’s an improvement on _John,_ at any rate.”

Staci grins. He’s already heard Nick gripe about John Seed more than once. John’s ranch, just up the road from the Ryes’ place, is equipped with its own aircraft hangar and runway. Pratt gets the impression John’s obsession with flying has made Nick feel a little insecure, as though he isn’t the coolest kid in school any more.

“At least the other one seems normal,” Nick goes on. “He brought that elk you’re about to try. A whole goddamn flank, nice and fresh.”

Pratt frowns at him as he computes what Nick said. The other brother? He can’t mean— “Wait, Jacob is here?”

“Yeah, Jacob, that’s it.” Nick’s eyes turn suspicious. “Why, you not a fan? He’s not trouble too, is he?”

Staci was salivating in hunger a moment ago, but suddenly his mouth is dry. He isn’t sure how to answer Nick’s questions. Is Jacob trouble? Debatable. He has been, and potentially could be again. Does Staci like him? Undecided. There are things about Jacob he admires, things that make him uneasy, and plenty of others he simply doesn’t understand.

Has he repeatedly fantasised about getting thoroughly railed by him? That’d be a hard yes.

“Uh, he’s okay,” he says, for want of a better response. “Although he did break Sharky Boshaw’s nose a couple weeks back.”

Nick chuckles. “Yeah, well, who hasn’t wanted to do that?”

-

Staci is on high alert after that. He eats his food without tasting much of it, and his friends keep having to nudge him or snap their fingers in front of his face to get his attention. He’s too busy scanning around for a camo jacket and shock of red hair, to no avail.

A while later he’s on his way back from the bathroom at the back of the hangar when he almost collides with Jacob. Stepping out into the still-bright sunshine has him squinting, so he doesn’t recognise the tall figure looming in front of him until he’s up close.

“Evening, Deputy,” that familiar voice purrs.

“Jacob.” Staci raises a hand to shield his eyes. “Hi.”

God, he looks good. Even better than Pratt remembered. He’s holding a part-eaten burger in a napkin in one hand, and without breaking eye contact he lifts his other hand to his mouth and sucks a smear of ketchup from his thumb. He can’t possibly know what the sight does to Staci’s insides.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” Staci stammers.

Jacob raises his eyebrows. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“What? I didn’t mean it like—I just didn’t see—” He cuts himself off just in time before he admits he looked for Jacob’s car. “Uh, didn’t think it would be your style.” Fuck, this is off to a _great_ start.

Jacob watches him coolly. “I thought beer and free food was everybody’s style.”

“Huh. Fair point.”

Now he’s stopped blinking at the sun and stumbling over his words, Staci notices that Jacob genuinely does look different. His beard is neater for a start. A recent trim shows off the strong line of his jaw and reveals more of his face. It suits him. Staci had no issue with the rugged look, but it’s even clearer now how handsome Jacob’s features are. He feels an unexpected stab of jealousy. Looking this fine, Jacob is sure to attract attention. The Ryes’ Barbecue is a major social event, after all, and with half the damn county either here already or dropping in through the evening, that means a lot of lonely eyes casting around for potential partners.

Maybe that’s why Jacob is here for, too, as well as beer and food. He’s certainly put in an effort with his appearance. Staci has only seen him in well-worn jeans and shirts, plus the old army jacket and desert boots, but everything he’s wearing today looks new: dark jeans, black boots, short-sleeved flannel shirt unbuttoned over a black tee. It all fits him better. Fits him very, very nicely. _Fuck_. Staci knew Jacob was broad and packing some muscle, but the way his shirt hugs his arms and chest is distracting as hell. A pair of sunglasses is hooked in the front of his t-shirt, and there’s a little smattering of red hair on freckled skin visible where the collar is tugged down.

Pratt should really stop staring. Like, any time now. He drags his eyes from Jacob’s chest back to his eyes, always so cool and appraising, then tears his gaze away completely and glances around.

“Didn’t you bring your hellhound?”

“He’s over in the shade there.” Jacob gestures behind him to the tree line. “There’s a kiddie pool full of ice for the drinks, but Judge has decided it’s his bathtub now.”

Sure enough, Staci can see Judge lolling on his side in the pool, head and front legs dangling over the edge while a group of kids crouch around, cooing over him. He laughs. He spent forever hauling those bags of ice around earlier. Can’t blame the dog, though. Judge was built for snow and ice, not this sultry July weather.

“Smart dog. I might join him.”

“You should,” Jacob says. “That way you can keep an eye on me together.”

Staci turns back too quickly. Guiltily. “What?”

Jacob shrugs. “In case I get tempted to punch somebody.”

“Oh.” Another thin laugh escapes Staci’s throat. “Well, if you do, someone else can arrest you this time.”

“In that case, I’ll try to behave myself.”

That has Pratt staring again. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but it sounded like Jacob was flirting with him. It’s hard to tell when he’s always so deadpan. Staci swallows hard and tries to keep the conversation going so he doesn’t just stand there gawping.

“I heard you brought along half an elk,” he says. “I had some earlier. It was great.”

Jacob nods. “I’m not much of a cook, but I can track it and kill it.”

“You’re in the perfect spot for it, up at the veterans centre.” With a smile, he adds, “And no shortage of guns.”

Jacob narrows his eyes a little at Staci’s dig. The creases at the corners of his eyes are so sexy. “You like hunting?”

“I prefer to fish,” Pratt replies with a shrug.

“You any good?”

“I’m not terrible. Not great either. Guess I’m too impatient.” Fuck, Jacob needs to stop watching him. It’s making him hotter than the damn sun is. He keeps talking to distract himself. “I go climbing though, up around Monument Mountain. Some of my favourite spots are around there.”

“That right? Now there’s something I haven’t done in a long time. Used to climb sometimes in the Appalachians when I was… a _lot_ younger. But the Whitetails are something else.”

“Yeah. You should try it. Like I said, you’re in the perfect place. You’re not scared of heights, are you?”

Jacob hikes one eyebrow. “I was a paratrooper,” he says. “Eighty-second Airborne. Jumped out of a lot of planes in my time. What do you think?”

Staci grins. “I’ll take that as a _no_.”

He’s working up the nerve to oh-so-casually invite Jacob along on a climb with him and the others—that won’t seem weird, right?—when a small person tackles him from the side. It’s Summer, his niece.

She scrunches up her face and announces, “Judge licked my eye!”

“Uh oh,” Jacob replies, deadly serious. “That means you’re gonna be dinner.”

“No way,” Summer laughs.

“’Fraid so. I can try and talk him out of it, but I can’t promise anything. Best case scenario, he’ll be happy with just a leg.”

“He’s not gonna eat me! Tell him, Staci.”

Pratt sighs. “Well, Judge is a big dog. He needs his dinner.” He hauls her up into his arms and she clings to his neck as he jiggles her. “Hmm, there’s not much meat on you, kiddo. What d’you think, Jacob? Will a leg be enough?” Summer kicks and squeals as he tickles her bare legs.

“Tell you what,” Jacob says, leaning in towards Summer. “I gave him a couple sausages earlier, so maybe— _maybe_ —he’s already full.”

“Can I give him a sausage?”

“Maybe later. Come find me and we’ll see. Okay?”

Summer nods before turning her attention to her uncle. “ _Staciii_ , I have to pee.”

“Again?”

“Yuh.”

“Okay, you know where the bathroom is, right?” He points to a door at the back of the hangar. “You’re big enough to go by yourself.”

“I don’t like that bathroom! I saw a spider. A BIG one.” Summer stares at him wide-eyed and pleading. “I wanna go inside.”

“What, in the house?”

She pouts. “Yuh.”

He almost pouts right back and tells her to go get her mom then, but any further delay will probably result in an accident. And he probably shouldn’t make it _too_ obvious that he’d much rather stay and talk to Jacob. He sighs.

“Okay, fine. But no more soda after.”

He sets her down and takes her hand before looking back at Jacob. “I’ll catch you later.”

Jacob nods. “Later, Peaches.”

For a moment Staci stops and stares at him, processing and reprocessing what Jacob just said. Did he even hear him right? He must have been addressing Summer; it’s the only explanation. Even though he was looking at Staci as he said it. And he smiled a little afterwards. But he wouldn’t call Staci Pratt, a grown man and _Deputy Sheriff_ , something as demeaning yet weirdly affectionate as _Peaches_.

His cheeks burn even hotter than before as he drags Summer off to the Rye’s house in a daze. Once she’s done in the bathroom, she decides she wants to go play. Staci reminds her that she wanted to give Judge a sausage, _remember?_ But she has her heart set on the bright red slide in the back yard and will not be swayed. They go out behind the house where Kim has set up a play area for the kids to keep them occupied. There’s the plastic slide, a ball pool, some pedal cars and a bunch of other toys. One of the outbuildings even has camp beds set up for little ones who need a nap before Mom and Dad are done partying.

Rachel Jessop—no, _Faith_ _Seed_ —is sitting cross-legged on a big rainbow beach towel and playing with some of the younger children. She waves cheerfully when she sees Staci. He wanders over and flops into a beanbag beside her while Summer makes a beeline for the slide.

“Stuck on babysitting duty?” he asks.

“Oh no, I volunteered!” Faith tells him. “I love kids.”

“Huh. I have about a two-hour tolerance. Then I just lose my patience.”

They make small talk for a while, and Staci introduces Summer the next time she wanders over. Summer is very taken with Faith’s outfit, a cute lace sundress with embroidered flowers around the neckline and hem. When Faith tells her she made it herself, Summer’s jaw drops as though she just admitted she can talk to animals.

“You got yourself a new fan,” Staci says.

“She’s so cute. I can watch her, if you want to get back to your friends?”

“What about you? I can grab someone else to watch them if you want to go eat.”

“I really don’t mind hanging out here.” She smiles, but Pratt isn’t entirely convinced. She seems antsy compared to how she was at Joseph’s camp the week before.

“Are you… avoiding someone?”

“No. Not really.” She laughs and shakes her head. “It _is_ a little weird being here with so many people who know me. Or knew Rachel, anyway.”

“Shit. Yeah, I never thought. No one’s giving you any grief, are they?”

“No, nothing like that. There’s someone I’m just... not quite ready to see yet. Does that make me a chicken?”

“Course not. Look, if you want someone to hang out with, you’re welcome to come chill with me and Eli and Grace. Ash, too. They’re all cool and won’t ask you any stupid questions. Promise.”

She smiles. “Thanks, Staci. I’ll come find you later.”

Summer is happy to stay and play with Faith, so Pratt heads back to the party.

Jacob isn’t where he left him. He wanders, always keeping one eye out for Jacob’s red hair, and bumps into a few new arrivals. Earl Whitehorse is outside the hangar chowing down on an enormous burger. He’s in full uniform since he’s officially on duty tonight, but BBQ night is always a quiet shift. If there’s gonna be trouble it’ll most likely happen right here. He has his phone on him for emergencies, and Trish, the part-time dispatcher, is manning the station. Earl has brought Bill Decoteau along for some grub. Bill retired two years back but still acts as a Reserve Deputy when he’s needed. With Joey on leave, his presence is welcome. Nancy and her husband Bill are with them, and judging by her fragrant breath and the rather groping hug she gives Pratt, Nancy’s already a lot drunker than he is.

After another fruitless look around for Jacob, Staci decides he can still cram in some more food. By now any other buffet table would have been picked clean, but the locals brought along so much food that this one is still groaning under the weight of it all. Gary Fairgrave is tending the grill now that Nick has done his part as host and official Alpha Male of the event. Staci heaps another plate, grabs a fresh beer, and heads back out to wander.

He’s chatting with Rae-Rae and Pastor Jerome when he sights his red-haired target again. Jacob is deep in conversation with Grace over by the trees, the two of them perched on a log bench. Seems as though he prefers to stay out of the sun. Staci watches enviously from a distance, eyes hidden by his sunglasses. Jacob seems relaxed and engaged, listening raptly to Grace before replying at length. Compared to Staci’s stilted ramblings earlier, Jacob is probably relieved to have a proper conversation. He and Grace have their military background in common, plus they’re closer in age… Staci’s heart sinks as he concludes that Grace would be a far better romantic prospect for Jacob than he would, even without the vastly higher probability that Jacob’s sexuality is working against him. Grace is beautiful, smart and single. She’s a private person like Jacob, and she already seems to like him from what she told Staci at the Hollyhock that time. Jacob has visited her shooting range a few times already. Fuck, what if there’s already something going on and he had no idea? God, if they’re dating it’s gonna be hell for Staci. And he can’t even hate Grace for it because she’s his friend and she’s great and deserves to be happy and he’ll have to act pleased for them…

“Deputy?”

A soft voice startles him from his spiralling thoughts. He turns to see Joseph Seed standing at his side. Rae-Rae and Jerome have vanished; they must have wandered off while he was eyeing Jacob like a stalker.

“Joseph, hi,” he says. He pushes his shades up onto his head to be polite. “Or, uh, do people call you Father? Or... Reverend?”

“Oh my, no. Joseph is fine. I like to keep things informal.”

Staci pictures him giving a sermon in his Hawaiian shirt and figures that’s about as informal as a preacher can get. Today, Joseph is dressed in cargo shorts and flip flops as before, and a white tank top with ‘California’ written across the front in pink. His hair is up in a bun with little flowers poking out of it. His eyes are blue, like his brothers’, but the big yellow sunglasses turn them a murky green.

“I’m Staci.”

“Staci,” Joseph says, grabbing his hand even though Pratt didn’t offer it. “A pleasure to meet you properly under such lovely circumstances.” He pumps Staci’s hand between both of his before releasing it. “I was hoping we’d have chance to talk last weekend, but of course that didn’t work out.”

“Oh. Yeah. I’m sorry we had to just up and bail like that.”

Joseph raises both palms towards Staci. “No no no, you mustn’t apologise. I feel terrible for how my conversation with Deputy Hudson ended. It wasn’t my intention to upset her at all, but I do feel responsible. I hope she’s well?”

“Umm… Actually she’s taking some time off work. She has some stuff going on that’s, uh, pretty raw? She’s out of town right now.” Staci squirms a little. “It’s not really my place to talk about it.”

“Of course not. And I’m so sorry to hear she’s been struggling. I fear I may have added to that pain.”

“It wasn’t really your fault,” Pratt tells him. “She was already having a hard time. Joey isn’t the sort of person who asks for help from anyone. So… honestly? When you talked about her past, it was kinda… overstepping a boundary. But you couldn’t have known that.”

“I see. I should have been more sensitive. I was excited to meet her, and when she asked to speak privately…” He looks up at the sky and shakes his head apologetically. “My greatest flaw, as my wife and brothers are keen to remind me, is that I tend to get carried away.” He touches Staci’s arm lightly. “Would you walk with me, Staci?”

“Oh. Sure.”

Joseph is about an inch taller than him, but when he hooks his arm through Staci’s it reminds him of walking with his tiny grandma. Staci’s drunk enough not to mind, though. He casts one mournful last glance at Jacob and Grace before Joseph leads him away. With a kick of satisfaction he sees that Jacob is watching him back.

“Tell me, Staci,” Joseph says. “I want your absolutely honest opinion. I’d like to apologise to Deputy Hudson, but the last thing I want is to offend her any further. How do you recommend I approach her? Or would it be better if I stayed out of it?”

Pratt mulls over his reply. “Well... I think it’d be a nice gesture to say something. Just don’t expect her to say much back, at least not right away. To be honest, she’s kinda suspicious of you. Just with your family buying a lot of property, and the whole… uh, unusual church set-up you have.”

Joseph nods along. “It’s all right, you can say _cult_ ,” he says with a smile. “I assume that’s what she’s worried about?”

Pratt just gives a non-committal shrug.

“I’ve had a few similar accusations already,” Joseph goes on. “Not only here but in Georgia. We try to be as transparent as possible, but I understand that with any kind of faith-based organisation there will be suspicions. Particularly when we’re new to a place like this with such a close-knit community.”

“So like… how come you have the fences and cameras and stuff? I don’t mean to be rude. It just doesn’t seem very transparent.”

“That’s more for John’s projects than mine,” Joseph replies. Leaning closer for a moment, he adds: “I’m not allowed to talk about those.” They stroll towards the runway. “I’m not keen on building fences, and truth be told I abhor guns. Which you’ll probably think makes me a fool for moving to Montana.”

“Why did you?” Pratt asks. “Why Hope County?”

“A number of reasons. Signs, if you believe in such things. I believe we were meant to come here. For one thing, a dear member of our church family is originally from here.”

“Faith?”

“That’s right. She met us in Atlanta and it just seemed like fate. We were looking around for somewhere to settle. Not only the church, but my brothers also. It had to be somewhere all of us could call home. I wasn’t sure John would be happy somewhere so quiet. He won’t mind me telling you this: John had a rocky past, and he’s always found it difficult to stop moving. But he visited last year to look at properties, and he fell in love with Hope County at first sight.”

He sighs contentedly. He gestures to a group of people relaxing on the grass, and amongst them are John and Ash. John is lounging back on a blanket on the grass, propped up on one elbow. His shirt is unbuttoned to his ribs. Ash crouches beside him, smiling as John talks. John says something that makes Ash laugh out loud, and John reaches a tattooed arm around his neck and pulls him down to kiss his lips. They look so happy. Staci is struck by sudden, painful jealousy. He turns away, but everywhere he looks, people are with their partners. Nick and Kim. His sister and Paul. Wade Fowler and his wife. Even Skylar Kohrs and her boyfriend Dylan have taken a break from arguing and are lying together, smoking a joint and looking loved-up. It makes Pratt feel like an odd one out, a spare part. Like everyone but him was built to slot into place with another person.

“ _Now_ look at him,” Joseph goes on. “I’ve never seen him so happy. Trevor brings out something really beautiful in him, don’t you think?”

Staci makes a noise of vague agreement, throwing a final glare in John and Ash’s direction.

“You said you all wanted to settle, but doesn’t John still work in Atlanta?”

“For now, yes, but he doesn’t want that to be a permanent solution. He has other plans for the future.”

Staci is wondering if he can get away with digging for more information on those plans, but Joseph’s next words interest him a lot more.

“As for my older brother… We’ll just have to see.”

“Jacob?”

“Yes. I thought he’d be in his element here. You’ve met him before, of course. You can see for yourself that Jacob is a born mountain man. He loves being outdoors. Loves hunting and fishing.”

“Does that bother you? You’re vegan, right?”

“I won’t pretend he and I haven’t argued about it. Louise and I are vegan, yes, along with most of our church family. But it’s not my place to tell Jacob how to live.”

“So… he’s not happy here?”

“I don’t think he’s _un_ happy, exactly. But he finds it hard to settle, too.”

Staci doesn’t want to pry too obviously into Jacob’s past and his PTSD, so he phrases his next question loosely. “Is that because... he was in the army?”

“I think so. He was only eighteen when he enlisted. When that’s been your whole life, it’s quite a challenge to adapt to civilian life.”

“I guess it must be.”

“Like most of us, Jacob isn’t happy unless he has a _purpose_ ,” Joseph confides. “Which brings me back to what I was saying about guns and barbed wire fences. Jacob had his security firm in Atlanta, so John and I… may have taken advantage of that in order to convince him to join us. But that level of protection isn’t really necessary here. Hope County is not Atlanta. I’m hoping Jacob will find something to do that he finds more fulfilling.”

_He could do me_ , Staci thinks, and feels his cheeks flush.

“But my goodness, listen to me rattle on and on about my family. There I go again, getting carried away! Tell me about yourself, Staci. Do you have family nearby?”

Staci tells him about his mom in Kalispell, his sisters and his niece and nephew. Joseph seems genuinely interested, asking about his work and upbringing. It makes Staci feel warm and appreciated. Joey’s still there at the back of his mind, warning him not to trust the Seeds or let them get too close, but he feels comfortable in Joseph’s company.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asks after a pause.

Joseph smiles. “Of course.”

“Joey said you could tell what she was feeling. Without even talking to her. What did she mean by that?”

Joseph nods slowly. “It’s a gift I have, although I didn’t always consider it as such. I thought I was mad for a long time, or cursed. It’s easiest to describe it as a powerful sense of empathy. People’s feelings are very vivid to me. Almost tangible. Sometimes I can even feel them at a distance if they’re strong enough.” He touches a hand to his chest. “With your friend, I could feel a huge amount of anger. Underneath it, terrible sadness.”

Staci chews his lip. “D’you think you could do that for me?”

Joseph stops walking and looks at him. “I could,” he says. “But it isn’t always comfortable to hear, as you’ve already seen.”

“No, it’s okay. I’d like you to. If you don’t mind.” He doesn’t know why, but it seems like as good a way as any to make up his mind about Joseph and his church.

“All right then. Would you mind if I place my hand on your chest?”

“Uh, no. Go ahead.”

Joseph closes his eyes and plants his left hand over Staci’s heart. For a few seconds he simply breathes in and out, tilting his head to the side as though listening to a distant sound.

“Ah,” he says, and nods gently.

“Am I angry?”

“No. But you’re very confused, because you’re afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of being yourself. Don’t be, Staci, because you’re so full of love. It’s beautiful.” Joseph opens his eyes and smiles as he takes his hand away. “You’re afraid your love won’t be wanted, so you’re ashamed of it. You’re holding it back. But that’s like trying to hide the sun. Don’t hide yourself.”

Staci is caught off-guard by how hard the words hit him. The words themselves aren’t much; on their own they could have fallen from the lips of any self-help writer, wannabe Oprah guest. But when Joseph’s hand was on his chest, it was as though he could feel him actually reaching inside and _touching_ his fear. He was right about all of it. Staci _is_ scared of not being wanted. Not being taken seriously. Not being as good as everyone else. He doesn’t know where it all came from, but it’s certainly there.

His eyes sting a little as though he might cry. He must be drunk.

“Wow,” he mumbles.

Joseph hums softly. “You remind me of someone else I know. You don’t want to feel as much as you do so you fight it, hoping you’ll feel less. It won’t work, though.”

“Who do I remind you of?”

Joseph smiles. “That’s not for me to say.” His gaze shifts as he spots someone over Staci’s shoulder. He beams and throws his arms out in greeting.

“Brother!” he calls.

Staci isn’t surprised to turn and see Jacob prowling closer, Judge at his side. Joseph wraps him in an embrace, and Jacob hugs him back with affection, though the look he casts in Staci’s direction is cynical. Protective, Staci thinks. Joseph clasps Jacob’s shoulders in his hands and speaks softly to him before planting a kiss on his head. The brothers may be quirky as hell, but the depth of their bond is plain to see. It fascinates Staci.

He gets his own hug and warm farewell from Joseph before the preacher trots off to talk to another group of revellers, leaving him alone with Jacob.

“Get what you wanted?” Jacob asks once his brother is out of earshot.

Grumpy asshole. He makes Staci feel like being bratty.

“No,” he replies. “I was hoping for a flower crown, too.”

Jacob allows himself the tiniest of smiles. “So what were you two talking about?”

Pratt almost retaliates by asking him what he and _Grace_ were talking about, but he bites his lip.

“Feelings,” he says at last.

“Huh. Think I’ve heard of those.”

They watch each other for a moment. Staci’s heart is beating hard from his strange talk with Joseph and from Jacob’s proximity, and all he can think about is kissing him. There’s a crowd of people approaching them, though, so it’s probably not the best moment to try flinging himself at his crush.

“I was gonna head down to the river,” Jacob tells him. He glances down at Judge. “Give this guy some exercise.”

“Don’t you wanna stay for the fireworks?” Staci replies, finally putting two and two together. It’ll be dark soon, and people are wandering closer to watch. “I think they’re about to start.”

Jacob’s mouth tightens. “That’s what I heard, and… nah. Not really my thing.”

“Oh.” Pratt could kick himself. Combat veterans generally aren’t huge fans of loud explosions. “Shit, right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Maybe I’ll head down afterwards,” he says. His sister and Paul are waving to him now, and Blue, perched on his dad’s shoulders. “It’d be nice to go for a swim.”

Jacob nods, and maybe there’s something in his gaze that wasn’t so clear before, or maybe Joseph unlocked some of the confusion when he did his ‘reading’, but Staci knows then that Jacob wants him too.

“Guess I’ll see you soon then, Peaches.”

“Guess you will.”

-


	12. Chapter 12

It isn’t that much to ask for. A little time alone in the moonlight with Jacob, away from prying eyes and ears. A chance to see if the first kiss he’s been daydreaming about is really on the cards.

Alas, Pratt must have used up the last of his luck on that second _Peaches_ , because he’s halfway down the wooded path leading from the road to the river when he hears voices from behind. A minute later his name is called out, and with a muttered curse he turns to see a group of people heading down the slope, lighting their way with cellphones.

“Yo Pratt, where you sneaking off to?” Dave calls out.

As they get closer, Staci can make out more faces. Wade and his wife Chris, Grace and Eli are following behind. Drew Fairgrave and Jess Black are with them. He bites back a scream and greets them with what little enthusiasm he can muster.

“Same place _you’re_ going, evidently,” he grumbles.

“Wheaty cancelled his DJ set,” Grace explains. “Kim had to go to bed, she’s beat. She told us to carry on as late and as loud as we wanted, but you know what Nick’s like. Said we can stay if we’re quiet and don’t keep mama and baby awake.”

“So since we’re all _far_ too young and drunk to make any such promise, we decided to come be loud down here,” Eli chips in, slinging an arm around Grace’s shoulders. He has a full bottle of Jack in his other hand.

“Right,” Pratt says.

Looks as though he’s bringing the whole damn party with him, then. The sound of more whooping voices from the direction of the road confirms it. He sighs and continues down the path to the river.

There’s a figure standing on the pebble shore, red hair lit by the moon, hands in his pockets. Pratt stops and stares at him for a moment, mourning how this might have gone if not for the gatecrashers.

He would have stepped out of the cover of the woods, Jacob turning at the sound of his feet on the pebbles. There eyes would meet. Staci wouldn’t speak, just approach him with a shy smile. Maybe with a surge of courage he would reach for Jacob’s hand. Wordlessly, they’d kiss. Loosen each other’s clothes as things got more heated… Staci stripping first to lure Jacob to follow, Jacob’s skin white in the moonlight as he finishes undressing and wades in naked after him… Hands and mouths sharing heat as they find each other in the cold water…

Fuck. _Fuck_.

At least Jacob hasn’t left already. Judge is splashing around happily in the shallows nearby, dunking his snout into the water before lifting it out and shaking his head with a wet snort. Pratt crosses the loose stones towards them.

“Hey, Jacob,” he says, lamely attempting a surprised tone.

None of the others seem to notice anything suspicious, or even pay them any mind, some of them already tugging off shirts and shoes and wading into the water.

“Hi.”

Staci lowers his voice. “They all just kinda… followed me,” he explains. He doesn’t need to apologise, exactly; it’s not as though they explicitly planned anything. But the last thing he wants is for Jacob to think he deliberately brought along backup.

Jacob shrugs. “It’s a free country.”

Staci nods. He’s thinking of something else to say when Adelaide’s boyfriend Xander walks over and hails him.

“Hey, bro! It’s been too long.” Xander gives him some cool-looking handshake and backslap combo. “We never hang out.”

Pratt grits his teeth. “We’re hanging out right now.”

Xander gives him a charming grin. “Huh. I guess.” He looks at Jacob and nods in greeting.

“Where’s Addie?” Staci asks.

“Oh, she’ll be along. She’s in the middle of some argument about flying lessons with Nick and that John Seed guy. The one she keeps angling for a threesome with.”

Staci clears his throat. “Yeah, uhh... this is John’s brother, Jacob. Jacob, Xander.”

“Oh, cool,” Xander replies without batting an eye. “Hey man.”

Jacob remains completely deadpan. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Xander claps Pratt on the shoulder. “Come on then, dude, let’s go get wet!” He strides away, peeling off his shirt and tossing it aside as he goes.

“He’s... from California,” Staci says. Jacob just nods knowingly. Staci meets his eye and grins.

“Well?” Jacob says. “You came down here to get wet, didn’t you?”

“I guess.” He hopes the moonlight bleaches out the colour in his cheeks. “You’re not coming in? It’ll be warmer than you think, trust me.”

“Forgot my bathing suit,” Jacob replies.

Staci shrugs. “Same here.” He swallows hard, picturing his skinny-dipping fantasy once again. Maybe it really could have been a reality. _Fuck_. It’s too much to hope he still has a chance at getting him naked, but it’s worth a shot. “ _Improvise_ , Seed. Adapt. Overcome.”

Jacob chuckles softly. “I’m gonna sit this one out,” he says. “But you go right ahead and improvise.”

Staci nods. He takes a couple of steps backward before turning and walking to the water’s edge. He kicks off his tennis shoes and strips out of his t-shirt, keenly aware of the eyes burning into his bare back, and fishes his phone and keys out of his shorts. He’s looking for a safe spot to set them down when Jacob calls to him.

“Pratt.” When Staci looks back, Jacob beckons him with his fingers. “I can watch ’em for you.”

“Okay.” They meet each other halfway and Staci hands him his stuff, wrapped in his balled-up shirt. “Thanks.”

He turns and jogs into the water before he can spontaneously combust under Jacob’s gaze. The water is bracing at first, cold enough to knock the breath out of him when he gets waist-deep, but he dives under to get it over with. As he surfaces again, finding his footing on the river bed and sweeping his hair out of his face, he catches Jacob staring at him. They’re past the point of pretending not to watch each other now, and Jacob is getting his fill. Staci shivers.

_I want you,_ he thinks as he stares back. _So bad_.

A body barrels into him and his attention is wrenched away. He’s quickly caught up in his friends’ water fight, laughing and coughing against a mouthful of water.

The river is wide and slow-moving here, so it’s one of the safest spots in the county to swim. Other places are deceptively dangerous. Pratt has seen more than one drowned body fished out of the Moccasin since he became a Deputy. He knows it’s still dumb as hell to drink and swim, but they’re all having too much fun, and there are enough folks around to rescue anyone who gets into trouble. He wonders if Jacob would come to save him if he went under. It’s a pleasant thought, being carried to safety in those big, strong arms. Maybe a little mouth to mouth.

It isn’t long before more revellers appear, Ash and John amongst them. Ash wastes no time baring his spectacular pecs and joining the others in the water while John watches with his tongue practically lolling out. Faith has come with them, and she stands shyly by the water’s edge as she debates whether or not to go for it. Staci calls out in encouragement, and she grins. She shimmies out of her sundress and tiptoes into the water in her bra and underwear. John has opted to stay dry, and goes to sits beside his brother who has settled on the shore. Judge lies by Jacob’s feet, panting and tired out for now.

Grace is up on Dave’s shoulders in her t-shirt and panties. Jess, in shorts and a bikini top, clambers up onto Eli’s shoulders and begins some kind of wrestling match with her. The aim is to knock their opponent off their partner and into the river. They hold out an impressively long time before all four of them tumble into the water with a collective shriek. Not for the first time today, Pratt feels a pang of sadness that Joey isn’t here. She has a competitive streak a mile wide and would have loved this shit. He hopes she’s doing okay. He sent her a couple of texts earlier, including a group selfie of him with Jen, Grace and a few of their friends all pulling exaggerated sad faces at the camera with the caption _We miss u Joey_ _uwu_ _xxx._ She hasn’t responded so far. 

Although he’s ashamed to admit it, Joey’s absence does at least make it easier for Staci to flirt with one of her sworn enemies. He chances another glance at the shore to see if any of his scantily-clad friends has caught Jacob’s attention, but he’s busy talking to John. After a few seconds, though, he looks back at the river and seeks Staci out. It seems he only has eyes for one person tonight. Staci can’t help but smile, and he ducks under the water to cool his burning face.

Faith is swimming towards him when he surfaces.

“I haven’t swum in the river since I was a kid!” she calls out gleefully.

“Seriously? You been living under a rock?”

“I may as well have! The others have been swimming in Silver Lake, but I haven’t yet. Crazy, right?”

“Definitely crazy,” Staci replies. “You have all summer for it now, though.”

“I do!” She has shaken off her earlier timidity and seems relaxed. She tips backward and floats belly up, beating her arms steadily against the current. “God, just look at the stars!”

Pratt floats beside her to enjoy the view. She’s right, it’s beautiful. The moon is too bright for the stars to be at their best, but even now he can see more than he ever would in the city. He wonders what the Seed brothers make of it after living in Atlanta. Not just the stars but the lakes, the mountains, the forests… Even Staci, who spent a frustrated adolescence in a county where cattle greatly outnumber people, can appreciate the epic beauty of it now he’s a grown man.

A few more people wander down from the Ryes’ over the next half hour or so. Some bring booze, and Eli’s bottle of Jack gets passed around in the shallows until it’s empty.

Pratt joins the others in their stupid wrestling game, perching on Ash’s muscular shoulders to take on Wade and Mary May. His soaked shorts are riding low and he almost flashes his ass to the whole river bank as he’s climbing up. The other two are fucking wasted, swaying to and fro, Wade clinging to Mary May’s ankles and she wraps her hands around his head and tries to get her breathless laughter under control. It gets Staci laughing too, but even then it’s way too easy to tip them over. They hear sounds of applause from the bank; it’s John, on his feet and beaming at Ash. Jacob sits beside him, silent but still watching. Smiling. Staci flashes him a grin in return.

“Everyone!” John calls out. His voice carries easily in the night air. “The night is far from over, but we’re running low on alcohol and I’m sure that water must be getting cold. You’re all welcome to move this party on to my house. I have plenty to drink, I promise.”

The whole crowd cheers. There aren’t really all that many people here; maybe twenty or so, mostly friends of Staci’s and a few hippie types from Joseph’s camp. It’s still a generous offer.

Ash ducks down so Staci can slither off his shoulders easier.

“You coming, Pratt? No way you can drive home now anyway, right?”

Staci seeks out Jacob on the bank. He’s getting to his feet and brushing his jeans off. He picks up the bundle of Staci’s belongings from the ground and scans the water for him. Their eyes meet, and Jacob holds up Staci’s t-shirt, hooked over one finger.

“Hell yes, I’m coming.”

-

John’s ranch is as impressive as Ash reported. Staci only got a short glimpse of the interior as he helped bring out extra chairs to the yard, but he’s pretty sure his trailer would fit at least twice—with another two stacked on top—inside the huge living area alone.

The ranch isn’t far from the Ryes’, so some of them walked from the river while others piled into Faith’s camper for the short trip. John drove his convertible with Ash riding shotgun and Staci folded into the tiny back seat. Jacob’s Jeep is parked at John’s place, which explains why Pratt didn’t see it earlier. It looks as though the eldest Seed will be here overnight. _Interesting_.

Jacob builds a log fire in a stone pit in the back yard. He doesn’t light it, stepping back instead to allow Ash to do the honours. Before long it’s burning merrily and the party settles in around it on lawn chairs or blankets on the grass. They drink bottles of imported beer and wine that is probably far too good to waste on this uncultured rabble, and Jess builds a joint to pass around.

John entertains everyone with an anecdote about Staci that he’s heard from Ash. That week, one of the more conservative residents of Falls End dropped into the department on July third to complain that the LGBT flag was still hanging outside the station beside the Stars and Stripes even though Pride month was _over_ now, Deputy Pratt.

“Tell them what you said, Staci.”

Pratt grins. “Uh, I’d had kind of a bad day, so I told her, ‘My apologies, ma’am, but unfortunately Deputy Ash and myself were unable to fit our busy schedule of homosexuality into the allotted thirty days. I promise our gay agenda will not interfere with our duty to protect and serve’ _._ ”

Everyone laughs; or rather everyone except Jacob, whose chair is set back from the fire. He gives Staci a look he can’t decipher as he puts his beer bottle to his lips.

“What did she say?” Faith asks delightedly.

“Oh, she just stormed out. But she had words with Earl, of course. Got me the token lecture about not escalating situations and taking care of community relations, blah blah blah. He was trying not to smile under that big ol’ moustache, though.”

“Yeah, and the flag stayed put,” Ash chimes in. “The Sheriff even asked me to share all our Pride posts again on Facebook.”

Staci nods. “He can do passive aggression with the best of them.”

He’s been warming himself by the fire, and he turns around to dry his still-damp backside. His front feels suddenly cold in contrast. His nipples perk up in response and he hugs himself, willing them to calm the hell down under his shirt.

John asks him if he’s cold.

“A little. Just trying to get my shorts dry.”

“You can have a hot shower if you like, and borrow some clothes.”

Pratt is about to turn down the gracious offer, but he has to admit a shower sounds great. Not to mention John’s bathroom is probably the height of luxury in comparison with his own stained plastic tub.

“Uh, you sure that’s okay?”

“Absolutely,” John replies, smiling broadly. “You’re my guest.”

Ash volunteers to show Staci indoors, and leads him up the stairs. He enters John’s bedroom, leaving Staci in the hallway, peering in out of curiosity. The bedroom is, of course, huge, with décor in tasteful shades of blue and light grey. The bed is so big it could probably fit half the party in it.

Ash reappears from his foray into the closet and hands Staci some folded clothes. “These should fit, you two are around the same size.”

It’s amusing how familiar Ash already is with John’s home. Staci follows him to the main bathroom further along the hall. It’s as big as he expects. Fancy corner tub, toilet and bidet, twin washbasins, and a shower stall that’s all slate tiles and gleaming glass.

“This is really nice of John,” he tells Ash. “Not just _this_. Inviting everyone back.”

Ash shrugs. “That’s just who he is, he likes to entertain. He’s one of the most generous people I ever met.”

“You’ve got it so bad.”

“I do.” Ash grins bashfully. “He met my family today.”

Pratt laughs. “Dude, you’ve been dating for a _week_.”

“I know, I know. It’s real soon, but they came to the barbecue. I couldn’t _not_ introduce them.”

“How’d it go?”

“It was great, I think. John was more nervous than I was. He’s really been looking forward to meeting Zach and Zoe. I think he was scared of meeting my mom, though. He thought she’d just write him off as some flashy asshole. She told him she’s gonna be keeping an eye on him, but I know she liked him.”

Ash’s family is his utmost priority, so Staci can see why today was a big deal. Trevor has been legal guardian to his younger half-brother and sister since his father passed. Any suitor unwilling to accept their place in Ash’s life is doomed to failure. John doesn’t exactly give off ‘family man’ vibes, but then again Pratt’s been wrong about all the Seeds so far, so he figures he may as well quit making assumptions about them.

The talk of family reminds him that Jacob met his niece today. And that he was great with her, which makes Staci feel a little fluttery inside.

“Will John be okay with me crashing here tonight?” he asks before Ash heads back outside.

Ash looks at him as though he’s crazy. “Of course. There’s tons of space.”

Once he’s gone, Staci locks the door and spends a couple of minutes poking around in the cabinets before turning the shower on. It’s hot within seconds and the pressure on his skin is amazing when he steps in. Just for a moment he regrets not getting to John first and seducing him so he could hang out here whenever he wanted. Bask in the sun in the garden. Slip between the sheets of that giant bed. His heart isn’t in it though. John and Ash seem to fit right, despite their differences. And John may be gorgeous but Pratt isn’t actually _attracted_ to him. Not like he is to Jacob, who turns him into a tongue-tied idiot just by making eye contact.

He lathers himself up and tries not to think too much about said eye contact. Or anything involving Jacob and his long legs and broad chest and big strong hands. He doesn’t want to have to fight off a boner. Unless… well, he _could_ jerk off right here in the shower, but it seems too skeevy to do that in someone else’s swanky bathroom. He rinses the soap off and washes his hair. There’s conditioner as well as shampoo on the shelf, to his relief. His thick hair curls and tangles aggressively if he doesn’t use it.

He dries himself off with the softest damn towel he’s ever touched. The mirror above the washbasins fills the whole wall, so his reflection stares back at him as the steam fades. Hot water, exertion and a day in the sun have given him a rosy glow all over. Makes him look healthy, at least. Beyond that he isn’t really sure why Jacob was so keen to feast his eyes on him all day. His body is long, sort of angular. Lean but not in that svelte, bendy way that gives twinks their appeal—and anyway, Staci would loathe being considered a twink.

Everything about him seems mismatched. Dark hair on his forearms and legs but little on his abdomen, only the narrow trail leading to his groin. Square jaw, round nose. Thick hair on his head but his beard is too damn patchy to grow longer than the stubble he has now. His eyes are wide and honest, forever giving him away, while his smile comes off as sarcastic or cocky even when he’s being sincere.

He sighs and pulls on the clothes Ash loaned him. The sweats are so soft they feel more like pyjamas, and the shirt is a plain white v-neck, the kind he could pick up in a three-pack at Walmart, but the designer name on the label makes him wince. He’d better be careful not to spill wine on it. He doesn’t really know what to do with his dirty clothes. In the end he drapes them over a towel rail in the bathroom, figuring they’ll be dry when he needs them in the morning, and goes back out into the hall.

Between the bathroom and John’s bedroom is another door, and since the house is empty, he risks a peek inside. He flicks on a light to reveal an office dominated by a stupidly large mahogany desk. Two of the walls are fitted with bookshelves from floor to ceiling. The wall behind the desk houses actual books and files while the opposite, to Staci’s right, has been used to display dozens and dozens of model airplanes. Staci channels his inner eight-year-old as he grins wide and steps in to take a closer look. There are war planes from every era, biplanes and triplanes and jets, commercial craft, sea planes, helicopters, each on its own little display stand. Some are suspended on clear wires from the ceiling. As he moves along the wall the models are older, chipped or scratched in places, and assembled with less skill than the immaculate kits further back. He wonders how long John has been building these. Perhaps since he was a child.

“What a nerd,” Pratt mutters to himself, but he’s still smiling.

He can hear voices raised in laughter outside as he passes the window. It occurs to him that the light in the room will be visible from outside, but hopefully everyone is too drunk and preoccupied to notice. Staci’s drunk, too, but after swimming and showering it’s levelled out into a happy, mellow buzz.

He turns to wander back to the door, eyes roving over the shelves and desk. There’s a framed photo on the desk of the three brothers standing side by side, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders. Staci picks it up for a closer look. The brothers are standing on a sunlit rooftop with a hazy cityscape behind them. Joseph is in the middle, eyes closed as he is caught mid-laugh. John is looking directly at the camera, while Jacob’s gaze is cast downward and his eyes shadowed. He’s smiling, though, the corner of his mouth turned up in the midst of his beard. Staci finds himself smiling too at the affection in the image. He sets the frame back down where he found it.

There’s a glossy folder on the desk and he flips the cover open idly, not even really interested in what’s inside. It’s filled with photographs. The one on top shows the interior of a church decorated with flowers, as though for a wedding, and standing in front of the altar is a bride in a flowing white dress. Her face is turned away from the camera and her blonde hair is woven with flowers. The scene is familiar somehow, so Staci lifts the picture carefully, careful not to mark the edges with his fingers, and looks at the photos underneath. The next is a close up of the bride, and the moment he sees her he frowns in confusion.

It’s Faith.

There are more pictures of her, lovely portraits of her smiling, some showing details of her dress, a close-up of a man’s hand sliding a ring onto her finger… They all look recent; brand new in fact. And yet Faith is sitting outside the house at this very moment acting very _un_ married. Faith, who laughed off the idea she was married to Joseph even though she has taken his name. Pratt thinks back to earlier today, when he found her hiding out in the kids’ play area. Avoiding someone. It itches at his mind, and he finds himself wondering what Joey would make of this.

He flips the folder closed. He can’t do much about it now, but he’ll talk to Faith some more. See if he can coax a little more out of her without arousing suspicion.

“Looking for something, Peaches?”

Staci freezes only for a second. The alcohol in his blood warms him, smooths his movements and bolsters his confidence. He turns slowly.

Jacob stands in the doorway dressed in his jeans and t-shirt. His feet are bare.

“Yeah,” Staci says. He doesn’t try to hide the way his gaze drags down Jacob’s body before heading back up to his eyes. His blood pounds. “Just found it.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH I'm sorry there was supposed to be more instead of me ending there like a horrible cocktease but it was getting so looong that I had to draw a line somewhere. Fortunately that means most of the next part is already written. I will try to finish it sooon!


	13. Chapter 13

This time Jacob is the one caught off guard. His expression and posture give nothing away, but he’s frozen for a few seconds before the spell breaks and he steps into the room. He pushes the door closed behind him.

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing in here?”

Staci trails his fingers along the edge of the desk, feigning nonchalance while his heart skips.

“I got lost?” he suggests coyly, but Jacob’s frown only deepens. “ _Okay_ , I was curious. It’s not every day I get to poke around a millionaire’s house.”

“Yeah, I remember just how curious you are. I recall us having words about it before, too.”

Staci steps closer to him, his approach slow and cautious. “It’s… a character flaw.”

Jacob’s eyes narrow. “I’d call it stupidity, except I don’t actually think you’re stupid, are you, Pratt? Persistent, yes. _Ungrateful_ , definitely. I ought to throw your ass out on the street.”

Pratt moves closer still, watching Jacob’s mouth, thinking about it on his skin. Jacob’s threats don’t bother him any more, at least not in the same way. The harsh words and glare in his eyes just turn Staci on. Maybe he really is that stupid.

“What are you looking for, Pratt?”

Staci smiles at the words that have been looping around his head since he mentioned being _curious_. “Satisfaction?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know. Curiosity killed the cat,” Staci recites. “But satisfaction brought it back.”

He’s close enough to touch Jacob now, and uninhibited enough to do it. He reaches out and lays his hand on Jacob’s chest. Over his heart.

Jacob grabs Staci’s wrist and holds it tight, though he doesn’t move his hand away. He tilts his head, analysing Staci as he speaks in that too-soft purr.

“And why would I be interested in your _satisfaction_?”

Pratt licks his lower lip. “’Cos you want the same thing,” he says. “Caught you looking.”

“I caught you looking, too. Seems I’m always catching you looking at things you shouldn’t.”

“Can’t help myself.”

Fuck, Jacob’s chest feels good under his hand, even through the layer of cotton. He’s so solid, so _hard_. His heartbeat is a proud, steady drum under Staci’s palm. Staci wants to reach for his face with his other hand, almost dares himself to do it, but he wants Jacob to touch him first. Prove that he wants it.

Jacob shakes his head. “You know how to put on a pretty show, I’ll give you that. But I’m not an idiot. And I’m not gonna play your little games.”

Staci sees the tension around his eyes and in his jaw. The suspicion in the depths of his gaze, and the desire.

“I didn’t come here to sneak around and look at model planes,” he admits. “Or to play games.”

“Why, then?”

“You _know_ why.”

His free hand goes to Jacob’s waist, over his clothes at first but his fingers quickly find the hem of his shirt and dip underneath. The skin on his side is scarred and uneven under Staci’s fingertips. He wants to see it all. Wants to touch and kiss it all.

Jacob snatches that wrist, too, and wrestles both behind Staci’s back so he’s helpless, pinned flush against Jacob’s front. It’s like a stark parody of Jacob’s arrest after his bar fight. If Jacob means it as a threat then it backfires because _fuck_ , it feels so good. So right _._ His arousal flares bright and hot. 

“ _What do you want,”_ Jacob demands. 

“You, I want _you_ ,” Staci gasps as Jacob’s grip on him tightens. 

“Why?”

Their faces are so close. Staci can feel the lust coming off Jacob, but there’s something cold in his stare.

“What do you mean, _why?_ ”

“Why me?” His hands are like brands on Staci’s skin. “Mmm? Got a thing for mean old men? Like your stalker, that day at the camp?”

The mention of Mark Barnes makes Staci recoil, withdrawing as much as he can in Jacob’s iron grip.

“ _Don’t_ —You don’t know a damn thing about it,” he says, turning his cheek. “This is nothing like that.”

“So tell me what it’s like.”

What the fuck _is_ this? They want each other, it’s painfully obvious. Staci is all for a little rough-housing, but now Jacob’s pushing the wrong buttons. He’s been trying to look past their age difference, but Jacob makes it sound so fucking nasty. Like it’s twisted, wrong. And the thing with Mark wasn’t about Staci’s _type_ , it was a bullshit mistake that doesn’t even compare. Staci never felt electricity with him like he does with Jacob. But just because the sparks fly doesn’t mean this isn’t an even bigger mistake. His heart pounds sullenly. He wishes he was wired different so he could have fallen for a good guy like Ash instead of Jacob Seed, a man whose fucked-up, baggage-laden past is literally written all over his skin. For all Staci knows he’s still in the closet, aware of his desires but resentful of them. Disgusted with himself and with Staci.

“If the feeling’s not mutual, then get your hands off me and let me go.”

After a moment, Jacob’s grip slackens enough for Staci to pull away and step back. Going from horny to humiliated so fast is like the worst drop on a roller-coaster, making him want to cry or throw up, but he has to hold on long enough to get out of the room. He’d rather make his escape without speaking, but Jacob is blocking the door.

“Can you move?” he says, pissed off at how small and hurt his voice comes out. He reaches for the doorknob and pulls, spitefully banging the door against Jacob’s side. The gap isn’t big enough to fit through, but he’ll fight his way past if he has to.

Jacob just sighs. One big hand presses the door shut while the other snatches Staci’s wrist away from the handle. “I don’t think so, Peaches.”

He backs Staci roughly into the door, keeping his grip on Staci’s wrist while the other hand slots around his throat and pushes, not hard enough to choke him but enough to tilt his head up and back so he can’t avoid Jacob’s eyes. It should seem aggressive, but it’s not. It’s _possessive_. And just like that, the roller-coaster peaks again and Staci’s furious and so fucking turned on. He bucks his hips without thinking.

“That how it is?” he grits, clenching his fist in Jacob’s grip. “Can’t get it up unless I try to fight?” He grabs a handful of Jacob’s shirt and tugs on it. “C’mon, _kiss me_ , you fucking coward.”

Jacob’s lips twitch momentarily, baring white teeth. He whispers harshly, “You want me to treat you nice?”

Staci shudders against him. “No,” he breathes.

Jacob runs his thumb along the line of Staci’s jaw and pushes on his lower lip. “Good.”

He crushes Staci harder against the closed door and at long last he’s kissing him, a slow, hard, tasting press of his mouth at first, deepening as Staci parts his lips in a moan of gratitude. Once his wrist is freed, Staci twines both arms around Jacob’s neck, clamps onto him and kisses back like his life depends on it. Jacob’s lips are cool and he tastes of mint; did he anticipate this? Brush his teeth first so he’d taste fresh and clean once he tracked Staci down? The thought makes Staci giddy. He runs his fingers over the prickle of close-clipped hair at the back of Jacob’s scalp. It feels like velvet. Jacob bites at his mouth, beard scrubbing against his cheek and chin, and gives his throat one last squeeze before sliding his hands down Staci’s sides to the soft curve at the small of his back. They linger and press there for a moment before reaching lower to grab two handfuls of his ass.

“Ah, fuck, _yes_ ,” Staci pants between kisses, grinding forward so his cock can rub against the solid column of Jacob’s thigh.

Jacob tears himself away with a pained noise and stills, breathing unevenly. For an instant Staci is terrified he’s about to halt this before it’s even begun. But then Jacob’s hand closes around his arm again.

“Come with me,” he says.

He pulls Staci out of the room and along the hallway, past the bathroom where he showered earlier and down to the final door on the left. Jacob shoves it open and drags him inside. Staci only gets the briefest glimpse of the room—the neatly made bed lit by a single lamp, Jacob’s boots by the footboard—before Jacob all but slams the door shut. Slams Staci up against it, face first. Hot cheek to the cool door, Staci gives himself up to being manhandled however Jacob fucking wants him. He hears the lock click into place before Jacob’s hands encircle his waist, so big and so strong, with rough pads on his fingers and palms from manual labour. They glide over Staci’s skin as he strips the borrowed shirt up and off in one fluid motion and throws it aside. He squeezes Staci’s wrists above his head, a silent command to keep them raised. His fingers twist into Staci’s damp hair and lift it so he can bury his face in the crook of his neck.

“ _Jacob_ ,” Staci whines as goosebumps break out on his back and down his arms. His neck’s always been sensitive, and Jacob’s hot mouth on it drives him crazy. He can’t keep his hips from bucking, bumping his hard dick clumsily into the door on the forward motion and grinding his ass onto Jacob’s crotch on the backward. God, he’s already hard, but he doesn’t reach down to touch himself, keeping an obedient grip the door casing above his head instead. He must be getting precum on John’s fancy sweats, but it’s really not his fault.

He makes another pitiful sound when Jacob reaches for his waist and rolls his own hips hungrily. Teeth dig into the flesh of his shoulder. The next moment, the back of his sweats is yanked down and his ass bared.

Jacob pulls back to look at him, dragging a hand down Staci’s spine until he reaches his ass and squeezes hard.

“Look at that,” he growls. “Perfect fuckin’ peach.”

Staci’s strains to look back at him. Jacob’s eyes meet his and then he’s on him again, kissing Staci’s mouth as he tugs the sweats down completely. Staci’s cock bobs free for a second before a hot hand wraps around it, smearing precum along his shaft. Jacob swallows up his ensuing moans. God, no one has ever taken charge of him like this before. It’s the kind of thing he’ll picture in a fantasy, getting shoved around and stripped naked, a little extra nudge to take him over the edge as he jacks off. But he’s never asked for it in reality or thought he’d be so into it. Truth be told, there’s a part of him that balks at Jacob’s unspoken dominance, wants to put up a fiercer fight to show he’s not so easy, but that friction is what makes it feel so good. Like the sting of outrage lights another flame under their already burning contact.

“I wanna touch you,” he grumbles when Jacob breaks from the kiss.

Jacob turns him, lifts him in his arms with no visible effort. Something else no one’s ever done to him, but Staci takes the opportunity to tangle his arms and legs around Jacob’s body, weave fingers into his hair and kiss him hard. He grunts when Jacob knocks him into the door, cold behind him and hot in front, sandwiching his naked body as they rub and rock against each other. Staci claws Jacob’s t-shirt up his back, can’t do more than that in this position so it doesn’t grant him much skin contact. The space between Jacob’s shoulder blades is mostly smooth, while his right side is rippled with scar tissue. Staci wants to see all of him. He doesn’t care about the scars, just wants Jacob’s skin under his hands and mouth.

Jacob carries Staci to the bed and drops him onto the mattress.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

“Take your clothes off first,” Staci replies, drawing his knees up and working his dick with one hand.

It’s a rush being so exposed, but he’s in danger of tipping over into self-consciousness if Jacob doesn’t provide a counterbalance. Being stared at like a mouth-watering dessert all day works wonders for his confidence, but he can’t help but feel even more skinny and boyish in contrast with Jacob’s taller, thicker body.

Jacob licks his lips and kneels on the edge of the bed between Staci’s legs. Eyes exploring everywhere, he runs his hands along Staci’s inner thighs towards his groin where his skin is softest and most sensitive. Finally he reaches up behind his head and tugs his shirt off.

Staci barely gets a look at him in the lamplight—enough to see that his chest is scarred too, particularly on his right side, and the hair on his body is a beautiful copper-gold—because Jacob’s manhandling him again, flipping him onto his stomach as easily as tossing a pillow.

“Hands and knees,” he tells him again, but his voice is soft and sexy now desire is driving him. He pulls Staci’s hips up in case he’s feeling disobedient.

“Perfect fuckin’ peach,” he says again. The mattress shifts as he gets up. “I’ll be right back. Don’t you go anywhere.”

As if. Staci wouldn’t leave now if the house was on fire. He hears Jacob rummaging in a drawer in the bathroom, then his feet pad back across the carpet to the bed. A strip of condoms and tube of lubricant land beside him on the covers. Staci raises his eyebrows.

“John’s a very accommodating host,” Jacob explains.

Staci cranes his neck to watch as Jacob shucks off his jeans and underwear. He glimpses scars on his legs—not like the markings on his arms or torso; these are more like long, straight strips of slightly darker skin—but he’s far too distracted by Jacob’s erection to pay them much heed. Fuck, he’s _big_. Not excessively long, but he’s thick enough to make Staci nervous as well as achingly horny. Thank god they have plenty of lube.

He gets nowhere near enough of a look at Jacob’s body before he’s climbing back on the bed.

“Just look at you,” Jacob sighs, stroking both hands down the length of Staci’s spine, making him arch like a cat into the touch.

Jacob’s fingers smooth over his ass, squeezing first and then spreading him open. He teases his thumb over Staci’s hole.

“Fuck, Peaches.”

Staci can only moan in reply. He hangs his head down and his face reddens, but he bucks his ass back towards him at the same time, needy and urgent. He feels the mattress shift as Jacob adjusts his position.

Staci has only been eaten out once before, by a one-night-stand he met in a club in Kalispell four or five years ago, and he was so drunk he didn’t feel much beyond a minute or two of sloppy wetness before they fucked. Either the guy’s technique sucked or Staci has sobered up fast, because when Jacob’s tongue draws a light circle around his asshole he just about comes on the spot.

“Holy _fuck_.”

Jacob teases him for a minute longer before quickening his pace, first laving the flat of his tongue along Staci’s perineum before rolling it to dip into the pucker of his hole. He holds him open with one hand while the other sneaks between Staci’s legs to roll his balls gently in his palm. It’s exquisite. Any question of whether Jacob has sexual experience with men has flown right out the window, because he knows exactly what he’s doing. The fucker even uses his beard to torment Staci. Deliberately rubs his chin over the path his tongue has been lapping to make Staci writhe like a snake.

“Oh my god oh my _god_ ,” Staci whimpers. He’s aware how high and desperate his voice is getting but he’s unable to control it.

“You like that?” Jacob says, voice whispering right against Staci’s wet skin.

“So good, my _god_.”

He’s so distracted by the lapping and probing of Jacob’s sinful tongue that he barely notices him rummaging for the lube. He gasps when cool, slick fingers press into his ass. Jacob plants a kiss at the base of his spine and pushes further inside with a twist of his digits. Staci grinds back automatically, encouraging a rhythm, needing more. He can hear Jacob stroking himself, feels his cock bump into his thigh. It makes him think of all the times he jerked off guiltily to the thought of this, never believing it would actually happen. He hopes he feels good enough, looks good enough to burn tonight into Jacob’s memory and make him come back for more. If that makes him greedy, fuck it. Jacob makes him feel greedy. More now than ever with his hands and mouth and beard all driving him wild.

Jacob finds his prostate as he works Staci open, building the pressure on it slowly to wake up his nerve endings in the sweetest way. The irresistible warmth growing inside him has Staci’s balls tightening and he paws at his dick.

“Bet I could make you come on just my fingers,” Jacob says. He slips his fingers free without warning. “But that’ll have to wait ’til next time.”

“Don’t stop,” Staci whines.

“You ready for me?”

Staci isn’t sure he’s ever been, or ever will be _ready_ for Jacob’s big dick or even bigger self pushing it’s way inside of him, but he’s certainly impatient for it. He mumbles his affirmative into the skin of his upper arm.

“Let me hear it,” Jacob says.

“God, can’t you just _do it,_ ” Staci groans. “Just fuck me.”

He gasps as the tip of Jacob’s cock presses against him. Jacob strokes it over and around his hole, deliberately teasing before he pushes in. Even the head is thick enough for the stretch to make Staci wince.

“Wait. _Condom_ ,” he pants, jerking his hips forward.

“Don’t you worry, Peaches. I got it covered. Literally.”

Staci cranes to look round. He can’t see Jacob’s dick, but there’s a torn wrapper lying next to the lube.

“One handed?” he asks incredulously.

Jacob smirks. “Got more tricks than that up my sleeve,” he says.

“I can believe it.”

He holds the eye contact as Jacob starts to push in again. He gets an inch or so inside before Staci has to reach back to brace his hand against Jacob’s hip.

“Woah, go slow.”

They both still. Jacob smooths the hair back from Staci’s face.

“You done this before, Peaches?”

“Of course I have,” Staci grumbles. “Just not with… You’re fucking _big_ , okay?” He doesn’t feel like admitting it’s been a while, too.

Jacob hums softly. “Can’t do much about that,” he says. He slides a hand around to Staci’s dick and runs a loose fist up and down his shaft. “But we’ll take it slow. Mmmm, push back on me, baby. That’s it. Nice and steady.”

Staci drops his head again, eyes closing as he focuses on Jacob’s hands, on bearing down, easing the tightness in his own body. Jacob’s every word goes through him and makes him need it even more. Has him craving the fullness instead of resisting it.

“That’s right. Let me fill you up.”

They both moan as he buries himself with one last push. Jacob waits, arms looped around Staci’s waist as he lets him stretch and relax. As dominant as he’s been so far, he lets Staci decide when he’s ready to start moving, murmuring his approval as Staci slowly tips his hips forward and then back, hesitant at first before quickly growing more needy. It must test Jacob’s patience though, because the moment Staci starts to thrust back harder, Jacob seizes upon his cue and takes over.

Staci spreads his hands and braces them against the sheets to hold himself up as Jacob proceeds to fuck him hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Jacob’s own breath barely even quickens. Judging by how easily he lifted and tossed Staci around, he isn’t even exerting himself yet. A pulse of nervous arousal goes through Staci’s body. So much for Staci being the younger and more virile of them; this man is going to fucking _ruin_ him.

Big hands tug at his shoulders and Staci straightens so he’s kneeling with his back pressed to Jacob’s chest. Jacob holds him in place with one hand around his throat as the other starts toying with Staci’s dick again. As if that weren’t enough stimulation to drive him out of his mind, Jacob starts to purr words into his ear.

“You been thinking about this, Peaches?”

The consonants of the nickname tingle on his skin and in his head like a magic spell. His body is pulled taut as a bow string between Jacob’s hands on his throat and cock, ass clenching tight around his dick; only his head feels loose, lolling back onto Jacob’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Staci breathes. “All the fucking time.”

“Thought about fuckin’ you in the back seat of your car,” Jacob rumbles. His Georgia accent is thicker now his inhibitions have been chased away by liquor and lust, and holy shit, it’s sexy.

“God, me too.”

“Coulda ridden me in the seat of your chopper, first time we met, mmm?” His breath tickles Staci’s ear on every word, and all Staci can do is moan _yes, yes, yes_ in reply. “Or maybe when the Sheriff sent you over to grovel. Could’ve had you on your knees for me then, what d’you say, Peaches?”

Staci says _yes_ , of course, because the images on top of Jacob’s voice and hands and his cock pounding him are leaving room for nothing else and Jacob knows it. Staci’s balls are tight and full, dick leaking onto Jacob’s fist.

“Had you right there on the kitchen table,” Jacob goes on, and it’s suddenly too much.

“Oh god, shut the fuck up,” Staci gasps. “You’re gonna make me come.”

Jacob chuckles in his ear, and the sound is almost as intoxicating as the dirty talk. He stops talking and slows his thrusts just enough to bring Staci back from the edge. Lets Staci flop back down onto his elbows, face grazing the sheets and ass in the air.

“So fucking pretty,” Jacob rumbles. “Makes me crazy.”

He builds his rhythm again slowly, rocking steadily in and out until Staci’s panting again, starting to moan, and then he ups his pace. Deeper, harder. Faster. Deeper and harder again, shoving Staci up the mattress. He has to brace his arms against the huge pine headboard to keep from colliding with it. While not as enormous as John’s, the bed is so large and solid (and expensive, no doubt) that it’s barely moved under them, but Jacob seems to have taken that as a personal challenge. He pounds Staci so hard that the thick headboard knocks into the plaster. All Staci can do is claw at the pine, and God, he hasn’t been fucked this hard since… Probably _ever_.

Jacob leans down over him, pressing his chest to Staci’s back, both of them slick with sweat. Doesn’t stop fucking as he cups Staci’s jaw and turns him enough so they can kiss.

“You’re so _loud_ , Peaches,” he whispers, breathing hard now. “Such a dirty mouth.”

It’s the first time Staci has even considered the other party guests overhearing them. He’s way too far gone to start caring about it now; if they can be heard from the back yard then there’s no taking it back. Gossip is an issue for tomorrow, if he even lives through the night. He’s heard of fucking someone’s brains out, but maybe Jacob is taking it literally because Staci is pretty sure his head will split open and spill its contents when he comes, and honestly, it’ll be worth it.

Jacob slips two fingers between Staci’s lips, pressing on his tongue. Staci sucks on them reflexively. He wants any and all of Jacob inside him, possessing him completely.

“ _Such_ a dirty mouth.”

He waits until Staci is keening around his fingers and clenching tighter than ever around his dick before he slows and stops.

“God, you son of a bitch,” Staci gasps. “I wanted to come that time.”

“I know,” Jacob replies, a smile in his voice. Laughs softly at the pained noise Staci makes under him. “You said you didn’t want me to treat you nice.”

“You’re gonna _kill_ me.”

“I’ll let you come before you die. Promise.”

He goes easy on him for a while, letting them both cool off a little as he fucks into Staci at an easy pace, hands wandering. It’s not fair that he gets to explore Staci’s body when Staci can’t do the same. The best he can do is reach a hand behind him to grab at Jacob’s ass—and the way it flexes is fucking _spectacular—_ and thighs. Meanwhile Jacob trails his fingers wherever he damn wants. Discovers just how sensitive Staci’s nipples are, the bastard. The little involuntary gasps and whines this new knowledge earns him gets him moving faster again, and soon Staci is a sprawled-out wreck once more, practically weeping into the pillows as Jacob drives him back to the edge.

And stops.

Staci sobs in frustration. “Okay, first I’m gonna kill _you_.”

All is quickly forgiven when Jacob rolls him onto his back, and he’s able to look up into those eyes.

“You wanna come, baby?”

“ _Yes.”_

At long last Staci is free to paw at him, digging his fingers into Jacob’s chest and hips. God, he has freckles on his shoulders and down his arms, how has he never realised that before? It’s so sexy. There’s a tattoo Staci didn’t notice earlier on Jacob’s left arm above the curve of his biceps, in black ink faded blue with age: a wolf’s head with stylised wings. But he’s too caught up in Jacob’s eyes to stare at much else.

“You sure?” Jacob teases. “I probably got another half hour in me yet.”

“Fuck, _how?_ ”

Jacob smiles, teeth flashing. “You need stamina to be a soldier.”

He pushes back on Staci’s thighs, spreading them even wider and tipping his pelvis up, and the new angle has Jacob’s cock rubbing inside him so fucking sweetly that it has Staci back on the brink in no time. He grabs for his dick, twists his thumb and forefinger just under the head the way he always does before he finishes. His head tips back and he cries out as he comes all over himself. Jacob curses and gasps his approval as Staci clamps around him, whole body writhing with the force of his orgasm.

“Jesus Christ, Peaches,” Jacob groans, watching him spurt onto his stomach.

He leans down and kisses him while Staci’s still jerking the last drops from his dick. Jacob lowers his head, pressing his forehead to Staci’s and squeezing his eyes closed. His sweaty palms slip from Staci’s thighs and brace on the bed, and panting roughly he thrusts a few times more. Staci feels his shudder go through both of them. He slides a hand into Jacob’s hair, more petting than pulling as he kisses his burning face.

Jacob slows and stills inside him. Staci’s legs are trembling too much to wrap around him and hold him in place the way he wants to, so he uses his arms instead, twining them around Jacob’s shoulders as they kiss. He’s dripping with sweat, but the AC whispering above them sends a cool, blissful breeze through the air.

Somehow Jacob still has power over his limbs, because after one more kiss he’s pulling away and getting up. Staci is too weak to protest. He watches Jacob walk away—and _God_ , it’s not fair that he hasn’t had more opportunity to stare at that fine ass—and head to the en suite, pulling off the condom as he goes.

The next thing he knows Jacob is back, sitting on the edge of the bed. Staci must have dozed off. Every inch of him feels too heavy to budge.

“Sleepy?” Jacob asks.

He shakes his head. “Dead.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Jacob has tissues in his hand, and he starts to dab at the sticky mess on Staci’s belly and ribs. It’s cold.

“What is that,” Staci grumbles. “Baby wipes?”

Jacob just shrugs. “John,” he says, by way of an explanation.

They do the job better than tissues, anyway. “That’s actually pretty smart,” Staci mutters.

He lets Jacob clean him up, enjoying the attention more than he’d admit, not least because he can finally watch him up close. It’s hard to keep his eyes open, though, and after a while he stops trying.

-

It’s dark when he wakes. The sheets are tucked over him but his skin is cool in the air conditioned room. He turns over and blinks until his eyes accustom to the darkness, separating the pale sheets from the surrounding gloom. Jacob is close by with his back to Staci. He breathes so quietly that it takes a few seconds to tell if he’s awake or asleep, but the sound is steady enough that he must be passed out. Staci smiles in the dark. Smiles even wider and presses his face into the pillow when he thinks about the sex they had. Fuck, what a perfect end to the day. Even if Jacob caught him in less-than-perfect circumstances beforehand. But if that was his punishment, Staci is only too happy to get into trouble again.

His throat is parched and his head throbs dully when he moves, so after a few more lazy minutes he gets up and staggers to the bathroom. His thighs still feel like jelly. He doesn’t want to blind himself, so he locates the toilet in the dark and takes a piss before stumbling around for the wash basin. He drinks straight from the faucet until his thirst abates, and splashes water on his face.

Back in the bedroom he slips under the covers and wriggles closer to Jacob. It seems silly, but he’s nervous about touching him. They’ve kissed, they’ve _fucked_ (and how), but snuggling? That has yet to be negotiated. He presses his cheek to Jacob’s shoulder and breathes him in.

Jacob jerks suddenly and Staci pulls back in alarm.

“Shh, it’s just me,” he whispers, but when Jacob grunts and twitches his leg it’s clear he’s still asleep.

Staci lays a hand gently on his back. As he closes his eyes, he feels for Jacob’s heartbeat. It’s fast. Every now and then there’s another little twitch of his head or one of his limbs. Sometimes his breath inhales and holds as though he’s in pain, or he makes a muffled sound in his throat. Frowning, Staci leans closer and kisses him between his shoulder blades. His arm slips around Jacob’s side to hold him loosely, stroking the soft hair on his chest. He has the odd feeling of being locked outside a room where something momentous is happening, but he can’t get inside or even peer through a window.

“What’s going on in there?” he murmurs, pressing his face to Jacob’s back. Trying to listen to his secrets.

Eventually the dream passes and Jacob eases back into a heavy, motionless sleep. Before long Staci joins him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well THAT scene never wanted to end. Jeez, Jacob, give me and that poor boy a break. 
> 
> (Also I just remembered I never replied to the comments on the last chapter. Sorry!! I appreciate you all so very much ;A;)


	14. Chapter 14

The next time Staci stirs, it’s with something wet and cold pressed to his wrist. He shifts, slowly rousing from deep sleep to register the warm body he’s half draped over, the sheets tangled around his legs. He opens his eyes to hazy pre-dawn light. There’s a shadow over him and it takes a second to make out its form. A huge furry face, brown eyes staring down a broad snout. Breath panting on Staci’s skin.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps. His whole body jerks fully awake and away from the animal looming at the bedside.

The body beneath him stirs at the commotion.

“What is it?” Jacob’s voice is rough from sleep but tinged with urgency as he lifts himself onto his elbows.

Staci presses a hand to his chest and laughs as he catches his breath. His heart’s hammering. It’s only Judge, of course, paws up on the edge of the mattress as he investigates the person attempting to smother his master in his sleep. The dog stops sniffing and his tongue lolls out, draped between large teeth.

“Motherfucker,” Staci grumbles. “It’s nothing, just the dog. He scared the shit out of me.” He looks down at Jacob, whose frown is shadowy in the early morning gloom. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’all right.” Jacob turns and pets Judge clumsily, scrunching a velvety ear between his fingers. “Get down, you dumb beast.”

“It’s okay,” Staci tells him. “I’m just not used to waking up with a damn _wolf_ standing over me.”

“He’s just checking on his dad,” Jacob replies.

Staci reaches out timidly and pets Judge’s snout. The dog’s head tilts up for him to scratch under his chin and on the ruff of longer fur on his neck. The way Judge’s mouth opens makes it look like he’s smiling. After a minute, Jacob gives him a last gentle shove to get down off the mattress. He sits obediently beside the bed, ears and eyes visible over the edge.

Staci glances at the bedroom door, but it’s closed. “How did he get in here, anyway?”

“He’s been here all night.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep. Slept over in the corner there.”

“I didn’t even notice him.” He peers over at Judge and mutters, “ _Pervert_.”

Staci flops back down onto Jacob’s chest and lays his head there, listening to his heart, and wonders if this is a regular occurrence. Judge excusing himself to a quiet corner while Jacob has sex. Wonders if it’s happened in this very room before, after one of John’s parties. It’s obvious Jacob is vastly more experienced than Staci. The best foreplay and most mind-blowing sex of Staci’s entire life are testament to that.

He doesn’t like the squirm of jealousy in his gut when he thinks about that, but the memory of Jacob tossing him around on the bed is enough to make Staci’s cock stir. It’s still early enough that they don’t have anywhere else to be. It gives him an opportunity to cement this thing between them a little more.

He turns his face to kiss Jacob’s skin. It’s too gloomy to make out the details of the scars marking his body, but he’s able to trace his fingers over them. In many places the skin feels smoother than the scars suggest; in others his fingers find dips and ridges where the flesh was wounded more deeply and healed messily. It makes him shudder to imagine the injuries when they were fresh, but he can’t help finding the traces on Jacob’s body fascinating and beautiful in their own way. He takes care to touch his unblemished skin too, with its light fuzz of amber hair. Jacob hums softly and slides a hand into Staci’s hair.

Smiling at the encouragement, Staci kisses his way down Jacob’s torso, between his ribs and over the softer skin of his belly. He flicks his tongue against warm skin and feels the grip on his scalp tighten. He reaches under the sheet covering Jacob up to his waist, and moans gently as he takes hold of Jacob’s half-erect dick. _God bless morning wood._

He looks up and meets Jacob’s gaze before shuffling down the bed to settle between his thighs. It’s quiet enough that he can hear Jacob’s breath catch in anticipation. Staci wants to make this good. Really fucking good, so Jacob can’t escape the memories of this morning and the night before whenever he visits this room. This house. Every time he drives by the river where Staci swam last night, or catches a glimpse of a green and white Sheriff Department cruiser out on the roads. Up until yesterday, Staci could _maybe_ have convinced himself he’d be okay with fucking Jacob out of his system with one good ride. He knows better now, and he wants more. More of Jacob’s body, more of the rest of him too. He wants to learn about him. Watch him, and be watched. Flirt more. Have Jacob open up to him, however long it may take to peel back each stubborn layer.

It’s impressive how silent Jacob stays when Staci starts to tease him. But Staci doesn’t want him silent. To hell with whoever else is still around the house; he wants Jacob’s soft, private sounds in his ears. He takes the head of his cock teasingly into his mouth and drags the flat of his tongue over the tip. In the quiet, it’s easier to notice every movement Jacob makes in response. A second hand threads into Staci’s hair. The thick thighs bracketing his body tense and shift as Staci works his lips further down the shaft before sucking hard, tongue flat against the weight filling his mouth.

He may not be able to deep throat, especially not a dick as thick as Jacob’s, but he’s been told he gives good head, and he _knows_ he’s talented with his hands. He does his best to prove it, working Jacob until his jaw is aching and the fist wrapped around him is wet with spit. Before long, Jacob’s hips are shaking and a hand grips Staci’s shoulder like a vice. A warning that Jacob is close. Staci would gladly let him come in his mouth and make a show of swallowing every drop, keen to impress, but he’s too fucking horny now and it’s making him greedy.

He pushes up onto his knees, wipes his mouth, and shuffles forward until he can take both their dicks in his hand.

“I wanna ride you,” he says, voice low and husky.

Eyes hooded, Jacob nods, licking his lips as Staci strokes them together. God, it would be amazing to come like this, too, looking down at Jacob with their cocks gripped tight in his hand. So many possibilities. He wants them all. But more than anything he wants to be fucked again and to feel connected. Ride Jacob to orgasm so neither one can move for the rest of the day without being reminded of it. He clambers across the mattress to grab the lube and a condom. Plans to put it on Jacob himself, but his hands are still clumsy from sleep so Jacob pushes himself up and takes over, pulling Staci in for a kiss first. They both have shitty morning breath but Staci doesn’t care. He kisses Jacob back messily as he preps himself, only the most cursory swipe inside before he’s slicking Jacob up too and climbing astride him.

“Easy, Peaches,” Jacob murmurs, gripping his hips as Staci guides his cock into place. “No need to rush.”

That’s fine in principle, but Staci would rather take his time once he’s full of Jacob’s dick. It’s easier in this position to adjust and work his way down that impressive girth. Easier still with Jacob looking him in the eye as he does it, but the stretch still knocks the breath out of him. He lays his hands on Jacob’s chest and kisses him hard as he sinks down all the way. They eat up each other’s soft morning moans, rocking gently together at first, enough to just revel in the tight, perfect fit of their bodies. Jacob shuffles them both back so he can lean against the headboard and kiss Staci while he holds him in his lap. His big, broad hands span most of Staci’s waist. Staci’s thighs still throb from last night but he’s more than willing to work through it, powering his body up and down, aided by the strength of Jacob’s grip.

Even in this timeless place between night and morning, Jacob is so solid and real that it still gives Staci a thrill that they’re even here together. It’s been a long time since he got to sleep with someone he had such a fierce crush on. And Jacob has been so distant and intimidating until now. Fuck it, he still _is_ intimidating, so big and strong and _handsome_ that Staci can hardly stand it.

“God, you’re so hot,” Staci pants, digging blunt nails into Jacob’s skin as he takes him as deep as he can go.

Jacob doesn’t speak. After all his dirty talk last night the silence makes him seem softer but more reserved, as though he’s more naked now they’re sober and fucking face to face. Instead he groans as he curls his hips up to meet Staci’s movements. Jacob lowers his head to kiss and suck at Staci’s throat, dips his tongue into the soft hollow between his collarbones as they speed up to a steady heartbeat rhythm. Staci’s fingertips press into the notches on Jacob’s scarred shoulder where it feels like he was clawed open. He clings on and strokes himself with the other hand as he revels in this new intimacy.

When he feels his climax approach, he leans his body back, weight propped on one hand, so the head of Jacob’s cock hits his prostate just right every time he slams his hips down. The final push over the edge is the way Jacob watches him, mouth open and panting as he runs his eyes along the long line of Staci’s body, from his lean brown thighs all the way up to his face. Jacob wraps his hand around the fist Staci has working his dick just a second before his hips jerk and he spurts over them both.

Staci is so sensitive from the pounding he took last night that his orgasm leaves him shaking, laughing breathlessly at the intensity of it. Jacob pulls him back into his lap and kisses him before tumbling him onto his back. Staci parts his trembling thighs, welcoming Jacob to thrust towards his own release. He raises his come-streaked hand and licks it with a filthy grin before kissing Jacob’s lips. Jacob curses and licks at Staci’s mouth, a groan turning into a growl as he rams into him faster, deeper. He presses their foreheads together, panting into the tight space between them as he comes. Jacob kisses him once more, slowly and sweetly before he eases out and rolls onto his back.

“My god,” Staci sighs, stretching out his legs and wiggling his toes to make sure he can still feel them. “I’m kinda glad the dog woke me up now. Tell him he’s a good boy.”

Jacob laughs softly. “He’s right here, tell him yourself.”

“Good dog, Judge.” Staci’s eyelids are heavy. “Your master’s not so bad either.”

-

It’s full daylight when he wakes again. He’s alone now, lying where Jacob left him, but the sheets are tucked snugly up to his shoulders. Staci smiles and stretches. He lingers for a few more minutes before rolling out of bed and into the en suite to take a shower.

He finds his clothes from yesterday folded neatly on the dresser. His phone and car keys are sitting on top. Jacob must have brought his things in from the other bathroom while Staci was sleeping. He pulls on his shorts and shirt, takes a deep breath, and heads out for his walk of shame.

It’s eleven, so he doesn’t know if he’ll find everyone else up and ready for the day or all still passed out around the house. There’s no sign of Jacob as he descends into the living area. A couple of Faith’s friends are chilling on one of John’s leather couches, and they nod at Staci as he heads to the kitchen, but it seems Grace and Eli and his other friends are long gone.

John is in the kitchen. It looks as though the youngest Seed brother has only just tumbled out of bed himself. He’s dressed in a short blue silk kimono and his normally perfect hair is mussed. He stands at the kitchen counter, refilling the water in an elaborate coffee machine.

“Staci!” he proclaims, positively beaming when he looks around. “ _Good_ _morning_. I hope you slept well. Were you comfortable?”

Staci reddens. John knows exactly what he got up to last night, and he knows that _Staci_ knows he knows, but they aren’t yet familiar enough to admit it openly.

He forces a smile and hopes he isn’t blushing too hard when he answers. “Yeah, I slept great. Thanks a lot for letting me crash.”

“Think nothing of it.” John snaps something closed on the coffee machine and pushes a few buttons. “Are you hungry? There’s eggs, bacon, cereal, toast, fruit…”

His kimono hangs open when he turns to face Staci, revealing his bare chest and a pair of tight black boxer briefs. There are red streaks on his abdomen that can only have been left by fingernails. Seems they both had a good night. John is usually so carefully put together that it doesn’t seem right seeing him like this.

“Oh, uh, no thanks. Can’t really stomach breakfast after I’ve been drinking. I could murder a coffee, though.”

“Then it’s your lucky day.”

John rattles off an elaborate list of all the coffees available, which sends Staci’s head spinning more than the remnants of his hangover.

“Sorry, I… only understood like half of what you just said,” Staci tells him. “I usually just drink the filter stuff.”

“Not a problem. I know just what you’ll like.”

Staci stuffs his hands into the pockets of his shorts and stands there awkwardly.

“Where’s Ash?”

“Showering,” John replies. “I’m sure he’ll be down any second. He got up early and went for a run.” He flashes Staci a look of mild horror.

Staci grimaces. “Seriously? God, is he even human?”

“I _know_ , right? He said he has to make up for all the calories from the barbecue. I swear, he has the self-discipline of a soldier.”

He finishes messing with the machine and returns to the kitchen island with two tall cups of coffee. He sets them down and gestures to the bar stools lined up. Staci takes a seat and watches John sashay around the kitchen, fetching cream from the refrigerator and a sugar bowl from a corner of the counter. His lack of inhibition helps put Staci at ease.

John returns and settles opposite him. “Speaking of soldiers,” he says, eyes sparkling over the rim of his cup, “Jacob’s outside. He’s walking the Beast.”

Staci just nods and stirs his coffee.

“So. What did you think of his new look? I take it you approved?” John smiles wickedly at Staci’s expression and blows on his coffee. “Come on, don’t be embarrassed. I won’t tell him what you say. I just crave validation for my work.”

“Your work?”

John scoffs. “You don’t think Jacob ‘I’ll-just-sew-up-the-holes-in-my-pants’ Seed went to all that effort by himself, do you? I took him shopping, got him tidied up a little.”

“Well, uh, I think you did a great job. But I guess...” Staci clears his throat as he shrugs. “You had a great model to work with.”

John beams again. “Quite right. Jacob is a fine looking man but abysmally unaware of it. Though I dare say you already know that.”

Staci nods, although he still isn’t certain he _knows_ much of anything about Jacob beyond how good he is in bed. He sips his coffee and looks out the window. He can’t help but feel a little put out. He’d hoped that Jacob had chosen to spruce himself up for Staci’s benefit. Unrealistic, perhaps, but better for his ego.

Ash appears soon after, dressed in clean shorts and t-shirt. He greets Staci brightly before giving John a kiss that drags on so long Staci doesn’t know where to look. If they were in anyone’s house but John’s he’d tell them to knock it off. Eventually they detach from each other, and John goes to set the coffee machine going again.

The three of them make small talk while John scrolls through the news on his phone. A door at the other end of the kitchen opens and Jacob appears at last, wiping his boots on the mat as sunshine spills in around him. Judge pushes past him to trot inside and sniffs his way over to the counter where the others are seated. He peers up at Staci, but on seeing that he is foodless and thus of meagre interest, quickly moves on to Ash.

John scowls at the dog. “Are you done befouling every inch of my lawn?”

Staci sips his cooling coffee and tries not to stare too hard at Jacob. It isn’t easy. He wishes he could walk up and kiss him as boldly as Ash did John, and be received with the same warmth, but Jacob only glances his way for half a second before heading to the sink. He mumbles a _good morning_ in reply to Ash’s greeting.

“Seriously, I hope you’ve been cleaning up his mess,” John goes on. “My poor gardener doesn’t need a repeat performance of his accidental muck-spreading mishap with the lawnmower.”

“I told you, I always clean up after him,” Jacob grumbles in reply. He runs the hot water and soaps up his hands. “If you don’t want other wildlife wandering in and fertilizing your grass, you need a fence.”

“I’m pretty sure that falls more into your area of expertise than mine.”

Jacob’s eyes dart to Staci again for a moment before looking back at John.

“You want me to build you a damn fence on top of everything else?”

John tilts his head endearingly. “Are you offering?”

Jacob gives a long-suffering sigh and rinses off his hands. Staci gets the impression the brothers have had this conversation, or one like it, countless times before.

“Check your cameras if you wanna know what’s been shitting on your lawn,” Jacob says.

_Cameras?_ Staci thinks, and momentarily forgets how to swallow. He sputters his last mouthful of coffee back into the cup before coughing and wiping his mouth.

“Don’t worry, Staci,” John says, clearly amused. “ _External_ cameras only. Nothing within these walls gets recorded.”

Behind him, Jacob focuses all his attention on drying his hands, but Staci could swear his ears are a little redder than they were a moment ago. It makes him want to kiss them.

“At least not without full consent,” John adds, and Ash jerks suddenly as an unseen hand grabs him under the counter. He grins and swats at John's arm.

“Jesus, it’s like chaperoning prom,” Jacob complains, tossing the towel onto the counter.

“Don’t be a prude,” John replies. “Are you staying for lunch? Joe’s coming over at one to talk about the… thing.”

“Nah, I’m gonna head home. I got work to do.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“I know, and I got a lot to do. Especially after _somebody_ dragged me out all day yesterday.”

“Don’t pretend you’d rather have been left at home with your tools than here with… someone else’s.” John winks at Staci.

Staci feels his cheeks flame as he looks at Jacob, who is staunchly ignoring his brother. But Staci has seen a chance and he intends to grab it.

“Hey, uh, will you be driving past the Ryes’ place?” he asks, knowing full well that Jacob can’t avoid that route on his way to the Whitetails. “Any chance you could drop me off? I left my car there.”

Jacob nods. “Sure. Can you be ready in five?”

“I’m ready right now.”

“Perfect.”

Staci cheers internally. It’s obvious that Jacob is unwilling to acknowledge their encounter in front of other people, but if Staci can get him alone then maybe he’ll relax a little. Maybe he can even coax another kiss out of him before they part ways. His heart skips merrily as he gets up and thanks John again for his hospitality.

“Hey, since you’re going my way, could I get a ride home?” Ash pipes up, and Staci has to restrain himself from snarling in reply.

John pouts. “Stay for lunch, Trevor,” he says. “I’ll drive you back later.”

_Yeah, stay for fucking lunch,_ _Trevor_ _,_ Staci thinks, all but glaring at his oblivious friend.

“I would, baby, but I promised to help Zoe out with her drama project today, and I work later.”

Jacob only shrugs. “It’s fine with me.”

-

Staci glares daggers into the back of Ash’s head as Jacob’s Jeep pulls out of the driveway. To add insult to injury, he called shotgun on the way to the car. Since Staci will be getting out first he couldn’t exactly argue, but maybe Ash could learn to take a damn _hint_. Instead, Staci is stuck in the back like a child with Judge panting loudly on the seat beside him.

“You got far to go?” Jacob asks.

Staci looks up and catches his eye in the rear view mirror. He wonders if that’s Jacob’s way of asking him where he lives.

“No. My place is just up past the orchards.”

He kicks himself for being vague, and hopes Jacob doesn’t read it as a brush-off. The thought of telling his crush he lives at the trailer park makes him cringe, and he hates himself for it. His home is nothing to be ashamed of. But he can’t help comparing it to where Jacob lives. The old hospital may be dilapidated, but it’s still a sprawling mansion in comparison with Staci’s one-bed unit.

It’s not like he’s keeping it _secret_ , he tells himself. They just don’t know each other that well yet. They have all the time in the world to share more about themselves. So why doe Staci have the sinking feeling that time is running out?

Before he knows it the Jeep is pulling into the gate at the end of Nick’s runway and slowing to a stop. There are still a few vehicles parked up ahead on the runway, Staci’s Stryus among them. Staci scratches Judge behind his ears before hopping out.

He tells Ash he’ll see him in the morning when they change shifts, and walks around to the driver’s door where he finally has a chance to meet Jacob’s eye directly. Jacob’s window is rolled all the way down, his left elbow propped out. Staci looks at Jacob’s hand where it rests between them and can’t help but picture the same hands on his naked skin just a few hours ago. The memory is still so tangible it makes him ache.

“Thanks for the ride,” he says.

The glimmer of amusement that touches Jacob’s eyes confirms that he caught the double meaning.

A smile tugs at his lips and he nods. “See you around, Deputy.”

-

It’s an age-old problem: how soon do you call a guy after the first hook-up?

Staci, being Staci, agonises over it more than most. He’d love to leave the decision up to Jacob, but they haven’t actually exchanged numbers. It’s down to him to call the number on Jacob’s business card.

He sits on his couch and turns the card over in his hand. It’s been three days since they spent the night together. Clearly, he had to leave it at least one day before calling; that’s just common sense. Two days seems to be accepted dating etiquette. But last night—the second day—Staci spent a full hour psyching himself up to call. After that he decided to text instead, only to spend another hour typing out message after message and deleting each one. Every word he wrote felt stilted, either too desperate or too distant.

Ash keeps asking him if he’s called yet, and today he even offered—or rather _threatened_ —to talk to Jacob for him if Pratt was too shy. Staci would rather throw himself off the Bridge of Tears than allow that to happen, meaning Ash has successfully forced his hand.

Joey’s voice speaks up in the back of Staci’s mind: _They’ve pulled Ash in_ _to the cult_ _and now they’re_ _using him to work_ _on you._ He shakes his head to dismiss it. The Seed family is weird, but Staci’s suspicions about them have waned since the weekend. Even Joseph with his beach bum dress sense and peculiar gift for empathy is more gentle and mild-mannered than Staci had expected. John is a show-off and apparently enjoys meddling in his brother’s love life, but he’s also a generous host, and seems genuinely wild about Ash. And Jacob is… _Jacob_. The Seeds still have secrets that drive Staci mad with curiosity, like the project at the convent and Faith’s mysterious wedding. But are those secrets enough to keep Staci from wanting to see Jacob again?

The answer is, emphatically, _no_.

He sighs and turns the card over once more. He’s handled it so much the edges of the stock are going fuzzy and his oily fingertips have left smears on the black-printed side. It’s been weeks since Jacob gave it to him, but Pratt hasn’t stored the number in his phone. He’s keyed it in several times before deleting it when he couldn’t decide how to save it. Didn’t want to save the new contact as ‘Jacob’ in case someone caught a glimpse of his phone and demanded to know why he was using the number. He considered ‘Big Bad Wolf’ and even ‘That Asshole’, but never followed through. In the end he just kept the card pinned on the wall with his Hope County map.

He keys in the digits again now. Saves ‘Jacob’ as a new contact. Opens a new message and hurriedly thumbs the keyboard.

_I had a lot of fun the other night <<  
Staci x <<_

It’s unimaginative and cheesy and he kind of hates it, but despite all his agonising he hasn’t thought of anything better. It does what he needs it to, which is to open communication and show he’s interested without sounding desperate. He hits _Send_ before his nerves can flare too high and dissuade him. Then he shoves his phone under a couch cushion and walks away. He can’t bear to sit and wait for a reply. He heads to the kitchen and does his dishes with the radio on so he won’t be listening for the buzz of his phone’s message alert.

It’s twenty minutes or so before he heads back to the couch. The light on his phone is flashing.

There’s a reply from Jacob. Staci’s heart pounds as he opens it.

_> > _ _that right?_

Staci just stares at it, feeling the frown on his face grow deeper by the second.

“What sort of stupid fucking bullshit reply is that?” he mutters aloud. “Two goddamn words?”

He doesn’t even know whether or not he should feel disappointed. Did Jacob enjoy himself or not? Can’t have been that bad if he came twice, but he could show _some_ enthusiasm. Maybe Staci just sucks in bed after all. Or this is Jacob’s way of cooling off whatever they started. If that’s the case… Well, fuck him.

Pratt taps out a response and sends it without stopping to reconsider.

_Well yeah_ _that’s why I said it_ _genius_ _< <_

He drops his phone beside him and sits back, reaching for the remote. The TV has only just come on when his phone vibrates.

_> > _ _now_ _i def_ _i_ _n_ _ite_ _ly know its you_

It makes Staci smile despite himself. “What a dick,” he says.

_Are you always this difficult?? <<_

_> > so im told_

Another brief pause, and then:

_> > actually no. you get extra _

Staci doesn’t fight his smile this time. He grins like an idiot, cradling his phone in both hands and reading over the words again. There’s nothing overtly flirtatious in the message, but Staci can sense the playfulness he’s sometimes able to draw out of stern Jacob Seed.

_Jackass x <<_

_> > put your claws away peaches x be nice_

Staci blushes at ‘Peaches’. Can’t help himself.

_How nice do you want me to be? <<_

The next response takes longer to come through. Perhaps Jacob is distracted with work, but the next few minutes stretch on forever before Staci’s phone finally buzzes again.

_> > as nice as you were the other morning_

“Oh, fuck,” Staci breathes, and presses his free hand over his still broadening smile. Blushing furiously, he taps out another text.

_You liked watching me ride_ _your dick? <<_

Once again, he has to wait a while for Jacob to respond. He squeezes the ridge of his growing erection through his jeans and pictures Jacob doing the same. Shutting himself in a bedroom or bathroom in the Veteran Centre to get some privacy, his thoughts full of Staci as he unzips his pants and works that thick, beautiful cock.

_> > hows a man supposed to work with you saying things like that_

Staci reads the message over and over, hearing it in Jacob’s huskiest growl. Shit, he’s gonna have to jerk off before he’s good for anything else tonight.

_Sorry, am I distracting you?? <<_

_> > constantly_

His face is so warm he must be glowing. They’re only flirting, he shouldn’t read too much into it, but the suggestion that Jacob has been thinking about him makes him high. He’s about to ask if they can see each other again when Jacob beats him to it, being even more direct.

_> > when are you free? _

_I have Saturday off. Working tomorrow and Friday. <<_

_> > how about i come to you saturday. send me your address x_

Staci swallows. Time to come clean about where he lives. He types his address and suggests Jacob comes over in the afternoon. He’s already jittery with excitement and nerves; it’s like being in high school all over again. He’d hoped reaching adulthood would put an end to feeling like this.

Jacob replies to confirm their plans. Staci would gladly keep him talking all night, but he ought to quit while he’s ahead and let Jacob go off and think about him some more. He bids him goodnight and adds a heart emoji to the end of his message.

_> > night peaches. be good xx_

Staci puts down his phone at last and leans back into the couch, palming himself through his fly. Three more days until he can touch Jacob again. At least work will keep him busy for the next two. He sighs and reaches for the box of tissues.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys. I had a lot of real life crap going on and was pretty wiped out, so the writing slowed down to nothing. I hope the formatting of the text messages wasn't too awkward to read! I'm not used to writing text exchanges so I'm open to ideas if you have any. ^3^


End file.
